


Will You Still Love Me?

by ThatVermilionFlyCatcher



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avonlea - Freeform, Curse Breaking, Enchanted Forest AU, F/M, Fairies, Fever, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gaston as a Comodore Norrington kind of guy, Happy Ending, Instigator!Belle, Mentions of the spinsters because they deserve more love, Spinner Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, True Love's Kiss, fairies are shady, no second ogre's war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 21:09:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11699952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatVermilionFlyCatcher/pseuds/ThatVermilionFlyCatcher
Summary: Enchanted Forest AUIn a castle near Avonlea, Lady Belle falls ill with a mysterious disease that physicians cannot explain. A humble spinner from the other end of the Enchanted Forest will be the key to a happy outcome.Visions are seldom all they seem.Revised. Punctuation and some grammar/vocabulary mistakes corrected.





	1. The Outsider and the Morning Star

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [¿Me amarás todavía?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11693091) by [ThatVermilionFlyCatcher](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatVermilionFlyCatcher/pseuds/ThatVermilionFlyCatcher). 



> As English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find in this fic. Grammar, vocabulary, and spelling corrections are more than welcome.

A woman draped in a green cloak walked back and forth under the trees on the edge of the forest. Her hands instinctively went to protect her swollen belly when a darkly-clad figure appeared a few feet away from her.

"Do you have it? " She hurried to ask, trying to conceal the anxiety on her voice. Thankfully, the night was very dark.

"Did not I give you my word?" the one under the black cloak answered. She extended her hand and produced a vial containing a golden liquid.

A pair of sapphire-blue eyes sparkled under the green hood.

"What is the price?"

The figure under the black cloak extended her arm, a long, slender arm. With a sudden movement plucked a couple of hairs from the head of the other woman, who could not refrain a yelp.

"This and the promise of a favor in the future will do."

The blue eyes considered the alluring vial several seconds. Finally, she said:

"Deal."

"Deal," the other voice repeated, giving her the potion and a small piece of parchment. "Once she is born, you make her drink this and recite the enchantment with your hand on her forehead. That's it."

The woman of the green cloak nodded and turned away without a word, walking towards the village as fast as her condition allowed her. As soon as her figure became almost indistinguishable on the road, a blue light, the size of a little bird approached the black cloak. A feminine voice, dry and firm, greeted:

"Well done, Red one. I'm proud of you."

Hearing this words, the dark figure shrunk to the size of the blue light and turned bright red. Guyrapytã Michí - because that was the name of the red fairy - wore a concerned countenance in spite of the compliment.

"Are you sure that this is going to work?" She inquired after a long silence.

"It is our only hope."

"I didn't feel right doing this."

"It's for the greater good. We should go now. Hurry up!"

The red fairy nodded without conviction and followed the blue one until both were confounded with the stars.

 

**_ 18 years later _ **

 

"Kiss my boot."

"Please… sir… not in front of my son…"

"You asked me my price and I have told you. Now, kiss my boot."

Rumplestiltskin’s mind was racing, his face wearing an anguished expression, his heart drumming against his ribcage. He was the town's coward, that was true, but his son didn't deserve to experience these humiliations again and again. On the other hand, he couldn't let the soldiers take his thread: he was counting on the proceeds to buy a new pair of shoes for Bae. He gave up and, closing his eyes, threw himself to the ground and kissed Hordor's boot. It wasn’t the first time he had to do this and he didn’t delude himself thinking that it would be the last one. He tried to control the sickness on his stomach to avoid throwing up at the sight of the stinking mud with which the shoe was coated. There was no need to step up the level of humiliation the situation already presented. A kick sent him rolling on his back and another one landed on his bad leg, making him scream in pain.

"Papa!" Bae shouted, throwing himself towards his father.

"This is what happens to the cowards that run away from battle and betray the duke," Hordor said louder "don’t you all forget that." he finished, getting on his horse. The soldiers that had come with him paraded in front of the spinner, one by one, spitting on the ground close to him. When they were gone at last, the fair resumed it’s habitual boisterousness, even though anyone could perceive the lingering tenseness and the dirty looks the townsfolk gave to the spinner and his son. _If the boy is really his son_, some said to themselves. Bae helped his father get on his feet, and the spinner gestured indicating that it was time to go home. Nobody else was going to buy any thread that day. Father and son disassambled the booth, picked their things and headed at a slow pace towards their hut. After several minutes, Bae asked:

"Why do you put up with all this, papa?"

Bae was used to witness the treatment his father received from the townsfolk and specially from the soldiery. The latter would never cease to punish him for his desertion. Runing away from the battlefield had meant that he had to forfeit any chance of improving his reputation in the future; but it was a price he had been willing to pay for his son, for the boy not to grow up fatherless as he himself have had to. Punches, kicks, jeers, slights, bargainings, everything he endured willingly for love of his son.

"What do you mean?"

"You don’t need a fixed place to spin. Why don’t we get away from here?"

Rumplestiltskin gazed at his son, quietly taking in the innocence and sincerity of those eyes that looked so much like his own.

"You have your friends here. Besides, towns usually have their own spinners, son."

Bae pensively reclined his chin on his chest. When they finally arrived to the hut, he added:

"Papa…"

"Yes, son?"

"If there were a town where no other spinners lived, Could we move there?"

"What about your friends?"

"Most of them are always trying to hide from their parents that they play with the son of the 'town’s coward'. They are not really my friends and you are my papa. I don’t want them to hurt you anymore."

"And that girl, Morraine?"

"Her father died last week and she and her mother moved with her family to Longbourn. Papa, please, if you could, Would you?"

"Yes, son. I promise you: if the opportunity presents itself, I’ll seize it."

Bae grinned with one of those smiles of his that shone like a river on the sunshine, and Rumplestiltskin thought that every humiliation was worth one of those smiles.

Father and son worked on the wheel until sunset. After dinner, Bae settled on his hay matress, close to the hearth, and fell asleep inmediately. It wasn’t as easy for Rumplestiltskin to do the same. His eyes turned towards the small window on the opposite wall. He could see the stars beyond it, inlaid in the blue velvet of the sky. Sometimes he had the feeling that instead of being him the one gazing the stars, it was the stars who gazed into him. His eyes wandered towards the hearth. The dim yellow light caressed Milah’s slippers. They were in the exact same spot their owner had left them the day she ran away. Rumplestiltskin didn’t want to think about what happened that afternoon on the deck of the Jolly Roger. Taking care of Bae by himself wasn’t easy, but at least having one less mouth to feed and no outstanding debt at the tavern had improved their situation. He didn’t want to think about that either.

Maybe with his savings… He could sell the cow and the goat, and kill the sheep he was to fleece next in order to have meat for the journey. How much would they give him for his hut? He started to plan a strategy to sell the animals without the purchaser knowing who the seller was. He stopped his train of thought. Why to delude himself? As long as they remained in the duke’s lands, there was always the chance of a guard of soldiers bumping into him and spreading news of his desertion of years ago. Go futher? Where? How? He had spent his whole life in the outskirts of Longbourn; he had no idea as to what existed beyond the borders of the duke’s lands. On the other hand, to leave the duke’s territories he would need some kind of permit that, in his condition of desertor, would be surely denied to him.

He sighed heavily. The sound didn't wake Bae, but the boy turned in his bed. Rumplestiltskin could now see his face, a few curls partially hiding his features. It wasn't until Bae reached the age in which he could sleep on his own matress alone, that the spinner understood why his own aunts were so fond of watching him sleep. Or pretend he was sleeping. He didn’t want to remember some of the things he had heard about his father in those occasions. Not because they were said with hate or contempt, but because they were sad truths for the ones discussing them. He searched with his hand on the wall behind his pillow until his fingers touched a medallion made of ceramic that the younger of his aunts had given him on her deathbed. Taking it off the wall, he looked at it pensively until a sudden realization lit his eyes. Maybe there was another way.

 

***

 

Belle unsuccessfully tried to focus on the conversation her father and Lord LeGume were having. Today was her eighteenth birthday and Maurice had organized a ball to celebrate it. It also provided an occasion to make public the engagement between his daughter and Lord LeGume’s eldest son, Gaston.

Belle held tight to Gaston’s arm, not out of love - two years of courtship hadn’t changed her opinion on the knight - but out of necessity of keeping herself upright. What have started as a slight dizziness at sunset was now a full fledged headache accompanied by nausea. She was sure she was sweating profusely.

Feeling like she could not bear another minute the fug and the piercing sound of the music and the conversations, she excused herself with weak voice and ran towards the balcony. Belle leaned her sweaty forehead against one of the marble columns. Everything was quiet outside the castle; not even a slight breeze moved the leaves on the trees, and the stars twinkled calmly on the sky. The chill made her shiver, but eased a little bit her discomfort.

Princess Aurora showed up at the balcony. Her eyes were filled with concern when she saw the sickly appearance of her friend’s face.  
  
"Belle, Are you unwell?"

Before she could answer anything, she blacked out.


	2. Pilgrims

A ray of sunlight touched Belle’s face, awakening her. Her maid, who was drawing the curtains, studied her face with concern.

"Chovnia, What happened?" the girl asked with a frown, feeling unusually tired.

"Your ladyship fainted at the ball. You ran a fever during the night. It broke by dawn, so we let you sleep."

A few seconds passed before Belle answered:

"Thank you, Chovnia. Help me, please. I’m feeling weak."

After breakfast, Belle headed to the library and sat under the window that overlooked the gardens of the castle. Her straw yellow dress contrasted with the deep burgundy of the seat and the green covers of the book she had in her hands. On the cover, written in golden letters, was the title: _Hermann and Dorothea._ Her mother had given it to her before dying, thirteen years earlier. Belle stroked the book and read for the umpteenth time the dedication Colette had written for her:

_“Love is the miracle of a heart indwelling in another. Blessed be the one to make its home in yours. Never stop fighting for him.”_

A tear ran down Belle’s cheek. She had always dreamed of becoming Dorothea, the brave woman capable of facing several armed men one day and tenderly care for the elderly and the sick on the next. Most of the time, however, she related to Hermann, the young man struggling day in and day out to please his father and never accomplishing his goal. Hermann’s father loved his son, as much as Maurice loved Belle, of that she was sure; but neither of them seemed to understand the hearts of their children.

Belle had no big complaints about Gaston; he had good manners and was a skilled warrior. Undoubtedly a man everyone would wish to have as an ally. But, as a life partner?  Their courtship had been a long shiver. On the long hours she had spent with the son of Lord LeGume, she had asked herself countless times if in Gaston’s heart was room for anyone else that he himself. Maybe it was that Belle wasn’t the one destined to produce that miracle for him.

Belle understood Maurice’s reasons: if she didn’t marry Gaston or another powerful nobleman, chances were that Lord LeGume would attack her land once Maurice died. As much as Maurice loved his daughter, he didn’t think her capable of mastering strategy, and even if she could, he’d prefer to avoid a war for her and their people’s sake.

Belle knew that a lady was to sacrifice herself for the good of her people, but she wondered if this was the only path available to her. She knew that if she relinquished her rights, a distant cousin would inherit the title and Avonlea would be relatively safe, but Maurice would never consent to it. With a heavy sigh she wondered if the situation would have been different if her mother were still alive. 

The night found Belle lost in these thoughts and the return of the night marked the return of the fever.

 

***

 

**_ 18 years earlier _ **

 

"Congratulations, Lady Colette. It’s a girl," the physician said as he carefully put the white lily turned yellow by the contact with Colette’s blood, into his valise.

The lady’s eyes lit up for an instant but her enthusiasm vanished when she saw the expression on her husband’s face.

"Take rest and avoid heavy meals. I’ll see your ladyship again in a month," Dr. Ambrose finished, picking his valise and bowing towards her. As soon as Maurice and the physician were out, Colette tiptoed to the door and placed her ear against it, just on time to hear Dr. Ambrose say:

"I’m sorry, my lord. The pregnancy has awakened a dormant illness, something she probably suffered on her infancy. It is a rather common thing to happen."

Maurice answered with something Colette couldn’t quite make out, and the physician added:

"My prognosis… She has only a few years to live. In any case, she certainly won’t get pregnant again. I’m sorry."

Colette muffled a sob, half rage, half pain. She took the less frequented path towards the library. By the time she arrived there, she had stopped crying, but the tightness in her chest remained. She closed the door behind her and headed to the window. She saw Maurice crossing the garden towards the stables, a whisk in his hand. Her husband was upset. Colette knew how much he wanted to have a son. Her hand instinctively went to stroke her belly. What would be of her daughter after her death? What would be of her when the time for her to marry came?

With her lips pursed into a straight line, Colette tried to imagine how her husband would chose a suitor for their daughter. No, she wouldn’t let her repeat her own experience. There had to be something in those books to help her protect her child, to protect her once her mother were not by her side to defend her anymore. After many hours of research, her eyes spotted a volume with green and silver covers she hadn’t seen before. When she took it in her hands, she had the feeling of having found what she had been looking for.

 

***

 

**_ 18 years later _ **

 

"Bae! Bae!"

The boy turned on his matress and looked at his father with a sleepy frown.

"Wake up, son. We have to visit someone today."

Bae rose, got dressed and had breakfast on a half asleep state. His father would usually tease him about it, saying that his morning sleepiness was the proof of their noble lineage. However, he managed to get a good deal of things done in that not so optimal state of wakefulness.

The morning was very cold, and the frost covered the grass at the sides of the road. Bae, slightly more awaken now, asked:

"Who are we going to visit?"

"An uncle of mine, Abelard."

"Abelard? I don't remember hearing his name."

"Well, it is… that’s because… this uncle of mine… he is a monk… and it is better not to trouble the monks."

"Then, Why are we going to see him?"

"Because we need his help."

"Ah," the boy answered, still not fully awake.

They continued to walk in silence. The spinner was recalling once more the memory that had come to him the night before. There was he, a young and scared lad, trying to bring his aunt’s fever down and ease her pain. He knew, however, that death would arrive soon to take her away. His aunts had been like mothers to him, and he didn’t knew what was he going to do once she were gone.

"Rumple, my beautiful boy," she had said in a hoarse whisper "I’m so proud of you... Hardworking, sober, clever, loyal… there’s only one piece of advice I have left to give you: no matter what, never go to the fairies for help."

The woman had closed her eyes and breathed deeply before resuming her speech with great effort:

"For them we are nothing but butterflies, that are alive one day and cease to exist the next. If there’s something you cannot solve on your own… go to the monastery and ask your uncle Abelard for help. Promise me that you will," she had finished, looking him in the eyes as steadily as her feverish state allowed her.

He had nodded in silence, his cheeks wet and his eyes full of tears.

Never before had he been in need of recurring to his uncle, but the ocassion had finally arrived.

Soon father and son were facing the silent and sober stone walls of the abbey. Rumplestiltskin banged the knocker twice. The echo of the sound reverberated through the quiet trees for several seconds before a little shutter on the door opened and a masculine, cracked, high pitched voice, greeted them. The spinner greeted back and introduced himself:

"My name is Rumplestiltskin and this is my son, Baelfire. We are here to visit brother Abelard… he is my uncle," his voice trailed off, as if unsure of whether or not it was wise to add something else.

"Abelard… Abelard… Abelard…" the voice on the other side of the door mused "¡Abelard! ¡Of course!"

Bars, locks and hinges clanked and the door opened to show a short and skinny man, dressed in a brown habit. His long grey beard was fastened by a belt at his waist, and his small face housed a pair of big, mischievous black eyes. His head was shaved, according to the customs of the monks, but it was evident that he was going bald too.

"Come in, come in, please!" he invited. "Would you like some tea?"

Rumplestiltskin put his hand on his sons’s shoulder, motioning him to enter. A fire was crackling in a corner of the parlour, and a couple of benches and a low table were sitting in front of it. A grey cat purred and rubbed its side against the habit of the religious as he closed the door and latched one of the locks.

"Take a sit, take a sit, please," the monk added, motioning them with his hand and putting some water to boil over the hearth.

Both visitors complied hesitantly.

"So... Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire… You must be Malcolm’s son, then, Right?"

The spinner nodded slightly.

"So you are that boy that always accompanied Katherine and Barbara… the town’s spinner, then. You are a skilled artisan" he added, pouring the boiling water into three tin cups "Someone came the other day trying to sell us some thread. They were asking a ridiculous price for a very fine thread. We didn’t buy it because we suspected it was stolen."

The monk fixed his gaze on Rumplestiltskin and the spinner turned his eyes towards the hearth. He didn’t want to appear rude, but they couldn’t afford to spend the whole morning chatting at the monastery’s parlour.

"May I talk to my uncle now?" he asked, as politely as he could.

"Oh! Right, right! Brother Abelard died a month ago. My condolences" the monk answered, and the shoulders of the spinner fell "But maybe I would be able to help you in his behalf. You are looking for a pilgrim’s safe-conduct, right?"

"Wha...? ¿How…?" Rumplestiltskin stammered.

The monk gave him a solemn look. The spinner noticed that the man was cross-eyed.

"I know how to recognize a desperate soul," he said with a whispered voice.

A shiver ran down the spines of the visitors.

"Just kidding" the monk said, smiling and winking. He put his hands on his knees to help himself to stand "When I was a young lad, just like you," he was talking to Bae "all that I wanted was to become a monk, but my parents had other plans for me. The day I was going to tell them of my resolution, I found them arranging my marriage to the daughter of a friend of my father. That same night I asked to go on a pilgrimage as a preparation for the wedding, and they allowed me to do so. On the next morning i left Avonlea. This was the first monastery I found that was far enough and I have stayed here since then."

While speaking, he had taken several pieces of parchment, a quill and an inkwell and placed them on the table.

"How… how is it like? Avonlea, that is. I mean, Is it a pilgrimage place? We have heard about it."

Bae, that until then had remained silent and was wondering if all this was but a really vivid dream, gaped at his father. It technically wasn’t a lie, but still.

"Oh, yes, yes, it is a medium sized village, on the coast. The weather is warm. Avonlea is called the home of the flowers, because when the last flower falls from a bush, the next starts to blossom. And, of course, there’s the sanctuary of Our Lady of Avonlea, a pilgrimage place for the people of the land."

"How does one get there?"

The monk grinned and extended a piece of parchment in which extensions of forest, arable land and mountains were intercalated. It was a map of the Enchanted Forest.

"This is Longbourn" the monk pointed with his finger on the map "The shorter way is through Nottingham and Sherwood Forest; then you should border the Nostos land and head south, towards the Figeloar river. On the other margin of the river you’ll find the village."

"How long would it take?"

"In normal conditions and counting on having fair weather… a month and a few days… but…" He pointed with the quill to the spinner’s staff.

Rumplestiltskin’s shoulders slumped, but when he looked to his son and saw a wide smile in his face, he recomposed himself. After all, it wasn’t possible to go far and arrive quickly at the same time. They looked at the monk and nodded. The last started writing and saying aloud:

_"I, brother Bonaventure of Saint John, subprior and door keeper of this monastery of Saint Aedelred of Longbourn, issue this safe-conduct in favor of Rumplestiltskin, spinner under the jurisdiction of said city and of his son, Baelfire. They are on a pilgrimage to Avonlea with the purpose of visiting the sanctuary of Our Lady of Avonlea in order to make atonement for their sins. I request of all civil and military authorities not to place any hindrance in their journey. On the contrary, I request of them to aid these pilgrims in whatever need they come to find themselves, so they can finally arrive to their destination in health and good spirits and fulfill felicitously their vows. Given on the seventh day of the month of..."_

"Can you add something?"

The monk stopped and arched an eyebrow.

"Our spinning wheels… to give alms."

"Oh, sure, of course, of course: _'The spinning wheels they carry are for the relief of their needs and those of the poor and are therefore under the protection of this monastery'”._

After signing and sealing the parchment, the monk fastened it with a cord and gave it to Rumplestiltskin, who carefully put it between the folds of his tunic.

"Is there anything else with which I can help you?"

"My hut…"

"Don't worry about that. I know of a family of dependable farmers who can take care of it."

It is expected of a pilgrim to return to his land at the end of his pilgrimage. The price of this way out was that he couldn’t sell the hut. For his son, the spinner was willing to do this and more. Bae looked alternatively to his father and to the monk, not believing what his eyes were telling him. A few minutes later, brother Bonaventure had finished the attestation of the protection of Rumplestiltskin properties by the monastery until his return; the spinner had signed with a cross where the monk told him to and the deal was struck. Opening his bag, he gave the monk a skein of brown yarn. The monk, despite their protests, took it, kneeled and kissed the floor, thanking God and them for their generosity. Once at the doorstep, he sent them off saying: 

"May the Almighty guard you and protect you on your journey. May He keep your friends close and your foes away. May he grant you mild weather and a safe and happy arrival to destination. Farewell!"

The heavy wooden door closed behind the now oficially pilgrims, the clank of the locks and hinges bidding them farewell.


	3. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple and Bae start their journey and Belle's ailment worsens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have based Rumple and Bae's route on the map of the Enchanted Forest drawn by PeterElUnico

**_18 years earlier…_ **

 

After saying his goodbyes to sir Maurice, the physician took the road to Avonlea. Once the castle was no longer in sight, he stopped his cart and making sure that nobody followed him, he went into the woods.

"Reul Ghorm!" he called with loud voice. He didn’t have to wait long for the little blue light to appear in front of him.

"It’s a girl. It must be her,"  the man said, drawing the yellow lily from his valise and offering it to the fairy, who studied it carefully and asked:

"Does Lady Colette know it?"

"Yes, I have told her already."

"Well done, healer. You have done an excellent job."

The man bowed.

"I’ll take my leave, then."

He resumed his journey and the Blue Fairy returned to the fairies lair. Once there, she called loudly:

"Guyrapitã Michí!"

The Red Fairy appeared immediately by her side. Blue cast a spell on the yellow lily, making it glow blue for an instant. Then she produced a bell jar over the flower and gave it to the other fairy saying:

"This lily is linked to the daughter of the rulers of Avonlea. It is your responsibility now to look after it and report to me of any change in its appearance. Is it clear?"

Guirapitã Michí nodded, concealing a shiver. She knew what kind of spell that was. The Blue Fairy turned around and started searching for a book on the shelves. The Red Fairy took it as a gesture of dismissal, but Reul Ghorm stopped her:

"We need lady Colette to find this book" she waved a green and silver volume "and summon us. I want you to be the one to appear to her and make sure things go according to plan. Of course, you are to conceal your real identity. A fairy must not be seen helping people she has no connection with."

"Are you… Are you sure this is going to work? Why me?"

"Red, we have discussed this already. We have been waiting for years for this to happen. Also, the prophecy…"

"Yes, I know, but what if…"

"In that case, it won’t be our fault. We would have done everything that was in our hands to do."

And that being said, the Blue fairy made the book disappear and headed towards her tulip. The Red fairy stood there, eyeing the flower floating in the bell jar.

 

**_18 years later..._ **

 

Rumplestiltskin looked at the fire and tried to calculate how longer it would last before it became necessary to get up and rekindle it. His leg was throbbing but he didn’t want to move and risk waking Bae. He had put his arms around the boy to warm him with his cape and the little heat his own body could produce.

More than a month and a half had passed since the day he closed the door of the hut and took with his son the road that lead them away from the town.

He had done it with nostalgia, no doubt: that hut had been the fruit of his efforts; he had built it singing and whistling, dreaming of the family he was soon to form with Milah; he had imagined the quiet evenings spent in front of the fire, the wheel spinning and the chestnuts roasting over the fire; he had imagined several curly brown little heads running and laughing beside the road on a warm spring afternoon.

Even if his return from the ogre's war destroyed those dreams, it was still the place to which he, a proud bridegroom, had carried his bride in his arms; it was the place in which Bae had been conceived and the place where the boy was born, even if he wasn’t there to see it; the place in which he had made all his happy memories with his son.

Bae, seeing the shadows that had taken over his father’s face, started humming a happy melody. His intelligent eyes looked for a reaction and Rumplestiltskin smiled, joining in with his own whistle: They were on their way.

The first few days of their trip were ideal: the cloudy sky made it easier to walk during the day; the fields, ready for the harvest, provided them with grain and fruit. The only thing that worried Rumplestiltskin was the guards that used to patrol the borders of the duke’s land. What would they do when they found them? Would they tore apart their safe-conduct and make them return? He didn’t want to see Bae’s hopes crushed in such a cruel fashion. But when the guard crossed their path at the edge of Sherwood forest, none of that happened. After reading the safe-conduct, the captain sneered:

"I didn’t know a little pilgrimage could clean cowardice and defection. Don’t think this is going to better your stand at your town, coward."

He gave the parchment back to Rumplestiltskin, and spitting on the ground, turned away with his men. The glee the soldiers had in their faces when they first saw 'the coward' was replaced by contempt when they parted from the pilgrims. It was common knowledge that those who wronged pilgrims were bound to be cursed, and no one was willing to try their luck. When satisfaction filled his chest, Rumplestiltskin understood why men were so easily tempted by power: when you have been bullied, the feeling of being feared is inebriating.

The relief of having left the duke’s territory, however, was soon clouded by the obstacles the forest put on their way. As easy as their trip had been until that point, Rumplestiltskin had thought it possible to arrive to Avonlea at the time calculated by the monk. Sherwood forest, though, was nothing like the woods that surrounded Longbourn. The enormous trees didn’t have low branches in which they could find nests with eggs; the floor of the forest was covered with roots, creepers and pine needles that were a nightmare for any traveler, but specially for someone who had a limp; the dry weather that had helped them so much before was what made it impossible to find any edible mushrooms now.

Rumple and Bae had taken from home as many crackers as they could bake with the flour and oil they had. The spinner had slaughtered his last sheep and salted the meat; and counting on finding eggs, fruits and mushrooms on their way, he hoped that it would last them until the end of the trip. However, the unevenness of the path, the worn-out soles of their boots, his bad leg and the hindrance their spinning wheels and few belongings posed on their way slowed them down alarmingly. At this point they only had a few crackers and a piece of meat of the size of a hand. The forest, instead of getting clearer, was getting thicker and thicker. Bae’s belly growled and Rumplestiltskin wondered if the boy was really asleep or just pretending sound sleep. Before he could do anything to ascertain the situation, a sharp cry pierced the silence of the night.

Father and son jumped on their feet, now hearing the noise of muffled steps on the dry leaves. Their eyes met with mutual understanding: _wolves._ Another scream was heard behind the dry bushes a few feet away. Rumplestiltskin took a wood from the fire and stuck it into the bushes. A sudden blaze took over the dry leaves and the wolves howled beating a retreat. Bae saw with the help of the fire’s light that one of the animals was dragging something… _a child._ Without giving another thought to it, he took another wood from the fire and attacked the wolf, who released his prey when the fire touched its side. The animal disappeared and Bae took the child in his arms.

"He breathes," he answered at his father’s worried face, releasing the air he didn’t know he was holding.

They laid the child on the sheepskin they were using as protection against the forest floor. The boy had a rounded face and curly brown hair, and seemed to be four or five years old. What was he doing alone, at night, in the middle of a forest? Where were his parents? Those questions floated in the air as Rumplestiltskin scraped the rags of what remained of the boy’s pants in the spot the wolf had biten him. Bae paled. Seeing that kind of injury in a sheep was a whole different thing than seeing it on a human being.

"See that the fire doesn’t die out," the spinner said in a quiet voice.

Bae nodded and went to pick some woods to rekindle the fire. Rumplestiltskin searched his bundle for a piece of clean cloth, and soaking it in whiskey, cleaned the boy’s wound. The child whined and, opening his eyes, started to sob loudly. Bae turned to look at him not knowing what to do.

"Shuush, shuush, boy. They are gone. They won’t hurt you. We are friends" Rumple said, ruffling the boy's hair in an attempt to calm him down. He put his bundle under the child’s head and added soothingly: "Everything will be alright… everything will be alright…"He repeated the words until the boy stopped crying and started to look at him with veiled curiosity. Then, he said: "Now, I have to clean your wound; if I don’t, it’s going to get worse. It’s going to hurt a bit, but you’ll feel better afterwards." The boy nodded quietly, his eyes wide open as the spinner looked for something in the pockets of his tunic. He finally brought to light a little knife with a bone handle.

"Look" he said, showing him the knife "I’ll put this between your teeth. If it hurts, you just bite it, right?" The boy nodded again with a scared look in his eyes but opened his mouth enough for Rumplestiltskin to place the handle of the knife between his teeth.

Bae could see the tears running down the boy’s face as Rumplestiltskin resumed the cleaning of the wound, put ointment on it and bandaged it firmly. Not even a groan of complaint escaped the child’s mouth.

"Aand… it’s over! Very well! Are you hungry?" the spinner finally said, smiling.

The boy nodded again and Bae gave him a cracker. By then, the sky had started to clear.

"What’s your name?" Bae asked when the boy finished the food.

"R… R… Ro...land," the boy stuttered.

"Roland, my name is Baelfire and this is my father, Rumplestiltskin. Did you come here alone? Where are your parents?"

The boy started hiccuping and saying:

"Dad and mom were fighting. I want them not to fight anymore. I came to call the Blue fairy. She can make mom and dad fight no more."

 _Don’t turn to the fairies for help._  Rumplestiltskin almost could hear the voice of his aunt in his ears.

"Do you know where are we?" Bae asked again.

"This is Sherwood’s forest. I’m from here."

"Can you lead us to your parents?"

Roland denied. Father and son looked at each other. What to do? By now his family would have probably noticed his absence and set out in his search. With the little food they had, though, just waiting for them there wasn’t an option. Rumplestiltskin considered their options and decided it was best to resume their journey and wish that Roland’s parents lived on the side of the forest that was beyond them and not the one they had left behind.

"Roland, your parents must be out there looking for you now. We need to go now, but we can take you with us and maybe we can find them. What do you say?"

Roland nodded and tried to get on his feet, but plunged into the sheepskin with a yelp.

"Stay quiet, I’ll carry you."  Bae told him. He and Rumplestitltskin washed their faces and ate the only two crackers they had left. Bae stuffed as much as he could his bundle, in order to lighten the weight on the cart his father was to pull all alone now. Then he lifted Roland in his arms and they started walking slowly. Around an hour after, they heard the voice of a man shouting:

"Roland! Roland!"

"Dad! Dad! I’m here!" the boy answered and they stopped.

Suddenly they saw in front of them a blonde bearded man. He had a bow in his hand and a quiver hung on his back. Even if he wasn’t a short man, he looked like a dwarf between the two men that accompanied him. The blonde man ran towards them and took Roland in his arms. It was then that he noticed the bandages on his son’s foot.

"What happened? Why did you do this to your mother and me?"

"I went to find the blue fairy and then wolves showed up. Bael… Baelfire made them run and Rump… Rum, pel, estil, eskin" - he tried to spell the best he could - "cleaned the bite."

"Thank you"  - the man now addressed them - "my name is Robin, Robin of Locksley, at your service. What is it that brings you to Sherwood forest?"

"We come from Longbourn; we are on a pilgrimage to Avonlea."

"But Longbourn is miles away! Have you traveled on foot all this time?"

Both nodded. Robin looked at them again. His eyes, used to see every detail on a split second, noticed the poverty of their belongings and the skinny shape of their bodies. It was clear that they hadn’t had a good meal since who knew when. On the same look he noticed Rumplestiltskin’s staff and almost shuddered at the idea of that man walking mile over mile on an injured foot; the many miles he had walked and the many miles that he had ahead.

"I beg you, don’t refuse my hospitality. Let me pay back what you have done for my son, even if it is just a small part of it."  Before they could answer anything, he told the men that had come with him:

"Little John, Dove, help them with their things."

After saying that, he took a horn from his belt and blowed it three times. Little John and Dove took the bundles of the travelers and put them on the cart, lifting it as if it were a small crate. Bae put his father’s arm around his neck to help him walk faster.

After a long walk they arrived to a clearing in the forest, in which several hovels made of bark stood. A group of men and two women were in the middle of the clearing, as if they had just arrived from a mission similar to Robin’s. Some of them were lighting a fire while others were slaughtering an animal. One of the women ran towards Robin and took Roland in her arms, covering him with kisses. Only after Little John and Dove left the cart near the fire was that she noticed the strangers. Robin introduced them:

"These are Rum…. ¿Rumplestiltskin?" - he hesitated, looking to the spinner until he nodded - "and Baelfire. They come from Longbourn and are on their way to Avonlea. They found Roland as he was being attacked by wolves and saved him. He was bitten, but Rumplestiltskin tended his wound."

Turning to Roland, he added: "You are going to tell mom everything you told me on our way here." He then smiled at the pilgrims. "Rumplestiltskin, Baelfire, this is my wife, Marian."

The tanned woman smiled brightly and bowing slightly, said:

"Thank you for taking care of my little Roland. You look very tired. Come with me, please."

Robin bowed and left them with Marian. The two travelers followed her until she stopped at the door of one of the hovels. She motioned them in.

"Take Rest, please. I’ll come to wake you up as soon as the meal is ready."

Father and son thanked her for her kindness and threw themselves on the hay bales. After the roughness of the last days, they were for them like mattresses filled with the finest wool, and they fell soundly asleep in no time.

 

***

Belle’s scream pierced the silent air of the castle and Maurice, that couldn’t stand seeing his daughter’s pain a second longer, left her chambers.

What had started as a light nightly fever about a month and a half ago was now a terrible disease. Her body temperature had raised night by night, until the point of inducing her spasms and delirium. Around three weeks from her first night of fever, Chovnia noticed that Belle seemed to have some pain when the fever peaked. Now, three more weeks on, Belle was screaming and crying for hours, her hands squeezing the bedsheets on a desperate attempt of easing her pain. From time to time she opened her eyes and scanned the room without recognizing anyone.

As mysteriously as the fever was taking her over every sunset, it was leaving her by sunrise every day. Upon waking, Belle never remembered what had happened the night before. Her body, however, was suffering the consequences of her daily struggle. Soon the joy with which she used to fill sir Maurice’s castle was replaced by the silence of an infirmary. It reached a point in which the only thing Belle seemed to be able to do on her own was reading, and this not for long. Her hair, that used to be healthy and shiny was now dry and brittle. She had lost weight, and the color had left her cheeks. Her eyes were sunk on their sockets, their characteristic spark, gone. The rays of the sun now harmed her, and she had to cover herself from head to toe every time she wanted to go out.

Maurice didn’t know what else to do. The wedding had been postponed indefinitely. Doctor Ambrose had told him to calm down and wait for the cures he was concocting to do their work, but Maurice felt that he could wait no longer. He couldn’t see her in such pain without feeling his own heart break. His feet leaded him to the war room. Once he was in, alone, he collapsed on his chair and sobbed bitterly.

Meanwhile, at the fairies’ lair, Guyrapitã Michí saw with sadness the yellow lily wither behind the glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to have Rumple and Bae on Avonlea by the end of this chapter, but things don't always go as planned. They will arrive there by the end of next chapter and we will see Belle in action at last.


	4. Fortitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At Maurice’s castle, Belle is searching for a cure to her illness. Meanwhile, at Sherwood’s forest, Rumplestiltskin learns that physical strength isn’t the only kind of fortitude that can get someone out of trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. Life got in the middle, as it does from time to time.

"Chovnia, Could you…?"  asked Belle, offering a book to her maid.

The older woman took it and turned to put it back on its shelf.

"Now, please, the one at your left… no, the orange one," she added when Chovnia’s hand hovered over a huge brown volume.

The maid returned to her lady and gave her the book, the downcast expression her face had sported the whole day still stuck in her face.

"Chovnia, what’s the matter?"  said Belle squeezing her hand.

The other woman broke in tears.

"It should be me the one suffering this curse, because that’s what this is. It’s no common fever, no, a terrible curse..."

"Don’t say that. We will find a solution for this, I promise you. That’s why we are reading this books. I can’t be the first one to experience this. There must be something in them, something that will hint us what to do."

"I have seen all kinds of fevers in my life, my lady, but never one like this. This is a curse... and I should be the one suffering it. I promised… I promised your mother that I would protect you with my life... and I failed her."

"Did… did she know about this?" asked Belle, shuddering.

"Oh, no, no, I don’t think so, your mother would never… but she knew you would need protection and help in the future… she asked me to protect you and I sworn… and I am breaking my promise…"

"Chovnia! This is not your fault! Listen to me: whatever this is, it is not your fault. You have been taking care of me every night since this fever started. How could that be 'breaking your promise'? There’s no one I trust as much as I trust you and it breaks me to see you like this."

Belle set the book aside and getting on her feet, she hugged her maid as tight as her now feeble arms allowed her. The other woman leaned on, sobbing and shaking.

"I’m sorry, my lady, I’m so so sorry, I…"

The door of the library flew open and the big figure of Maurice walked inside. Chovnia jumped aside as by instinct and the baron gave her a look of disgust. He never liked that foreign maid, but Colette first and then Belle favored her, and he had told himself that he didn’t want to pick fights about such irrelevant matters.

"Belle, my dear, some unavoidable affairs force me to go to Avonlea next week.  I want you to tell me what can I do to make things more bearable to you in my absence."

Belle considered his words for a few seconds and then answered:

"I wish to go with you."

"But… Belle… you are sick...you cannot come with me. It would set back your recovery."

"Father… I’m not getting any better. I want… I want to see the city again… it might be the last time-"

Her voice broke and a lump formed in Maurice’s throat. He opened his mouth as to say something, but Belle resumed:

"Chovnia can come and take care of me. We can make a few improvements to the carriage and it will suit us both perfectly. Besides, a distraction, something to take my mind off this whole thing for a bit will do me good."

Maurice considered her and then squeezed her arms and said:

"Be it as you wish. But promise me you won’t exhaust yourself."

Belle nodded and Maurice, turning to Chovnia, gave her a stern look.

"What are you waiting for? The meal was ready at least fifteen minutes ago and my daughter hasn’t eaten anything yet."

Chovnia flinched and disappeared through the door, followed by Maurice, who was ignoring the protests of his daughter. Once they were no longer in sight, Belle sighed and plopped on the burgundy divan. She took the orange book and opened it at the index, trying to focus on it. Reading, her favourite activity, had become to her a daunting task. Her eyes refused to focus on the letters for long, and her mind would mechanically read line after line without processing anything. But she couldn't yield. She needed answers. She couldn’t just wait hand on hand for a solution to be presented to her on a silver tray. A big tear formed in her eye as she tried for the third time to understand the contents of the book and decide if there was anything useful for the solving of their predicament.

Guyrapitã couldn’t stand to watch this any longer, not without interfering. Blue was in Camelot and wasn’t expected to return soon. The Red Fairy made a gesture and a heavy blue book appeared in her hand. She opened it at the middle, searched for something, and when she found it, she produced a piece of parchment. Guyrapitã put the parchment on the book and passed her hand over it. As she did so, the words on the book copied themselves into the parchment. She put it between her hands and closing her eyes, she blowed on the hollow of her palms, between the thumbs and the indexes.

"Lady Belle, find it, read it… please… figure it out before it’s too late."

Belle closed the book huffing and got up to put it back on the shelf, but stopped when a piece of parchment fell from it. She picked it up and read:

 

“ _Look, and pay attention;_

_Open your ears and listen to my words:_

_Seven winters you will see,_

_until the lily of Avonlea sprout_

_from the crack of the tomb._

_Seven winters yet,_

_and the sparrow will scape_

_out of the claws of the shiny cowbird_

_and set the lily free;_

_And on the lifeless forest_

_The thorns will bear roses._ ”

 

***

 

The light of the sunrise crossed through the trees of Sherwood forest and allowed Rumplestiltskin to study the faces of the merry men as they had breakfast. Right in front of him was Robin Hood himself, pensively chewing a loaf of bread and giving small pieces of it to Roland, who was seated at his feet. By his right was maid Marian, sipping her tea and discreetly making sure that Bae and him were eating enough. Little John and Dove, the men that had helped them carry their things the day before, were now sitting together by Robin’s left. Of the remaining twenty men, he had come to know the names of a few: there was Allan of Dale, the man of the sweet voice and his wife, Ellen; Midge, the miller’s son, and Firepan, the cook, were sitting side by side and sharing a pipe; there was also friar Tuck, looking his most monastic, probably because he was hardly awake, the spinner guessed; Arthur of Bland, of stern countenance, and finally David of Doncaster completed the list.

Rumplestiltskin repeated those names to himself again and again. Names were important. Names opened doors, hands and hearts. Names transformed strangers into acquaintances and friends.

At last, Robin broke the silence and said:

"Well, off we go."

Friar Tuck jumped as if someone had shaken him to wake him from his slumber.

"You can stay if you want, friar Tuck."

The man relaxed and Robin turned to Bae.

"Would you like to come with us? We are going hunting."

"Remember that today is collection day," Marian interrupted.

"On the western side, we are heading east, my love"- he turned again to Bae - "What do you say?"

The boy’s face lighted up and he looked hesitantly to his father, who nodded.

"Go, boy, enjoy yourself. I have some wool to try and dye"Rumplestiltskin answered with a smile as he ruffled his son’s hair.

The boy helped his father up and everybody turned to their own businness. The men who were going hunting prepared their weapons, Firepan went to carry water and Dove helped Marian with the dishes. Rumplestiltskin carefully studied some creepers he had seen the afternoon before and decided that those were exactly the ones needed to produce Lincoln green. He smiled to himself and cut an appreciable amount of leaves. When he returned to the clearing, a big cauldron full of water was simmering over the fire. Marian, who was mending clothes, lifted her eyes and addressed him:

"I heard you were going to dye wool and I supposed you’d need something of this sort" - her voice wavered a little - "I… I never learned to dye. I wish I had."

"Well, I can teach you if you want," he offered, shifting between his good foot and the staff.

"Yes, well, thank you," she said, smiling shyly.

She listened carefully to the spinner’s explanation, delighted to see, as the explanation went on, how his shyness vanished, his eyes shined and his voice became more and more mesmerizing. The man loved his trade and was most certainly proud of his skill. When there was nothing else to explain, silence fell between them, Roland playing with his toys and Rumplestiltskin stirring the concoction the only noise that could be heard in that clearing of the forest. The spinner could see on the corner of his eye, that Dove had been listening to his explanation too. Finally, Marian asked:

"How did you became an outlaw?"

The expression on the spinner’s face became unreadable. He didn’t answer. Marian insisted:

"Well, it isn’t common for pilgrims to carry their means of subsistence with them. That’s why I assumed… I’m sorry."

"Don’t be."

"Robin and I…" she continued, her labor forgotten on her lap "we didn’t really chose this way of life, you know? Everything was going right… until that day this 'friend' of his showed up. The man said he needed someone to back him up because he needed to talk to the Sheriff’s brother… but it turned out he needed someone to charge with his murder. Robin was falsely accused and we had to run or he would be hung for a crime he didn’t commit."

There was a pause and she added:

"What I am trying to say is that we understand what it is to suffer injustice and not be able to defend ourselves."

Rumplestiltskin listened to her in silence, watching Roland play with his toys.

"You do love children, don’t you?" she asked when it was clear he wasn’t going to say anything after her confession.

"I would do anything for my boy."

"Is he your only child?"

"Yes" His eyes were clouded now.

Marian considered asking about the boy's mother, but finally decided against it.

"You have raised him well."

He smiled.

"I know you said you are on your way to Avonlea, but, Why don’t you stay with us?"

"No, it cannot be. I won’t be but a bother to you."

"But we need someone to make thread and cloth for us."

He choked a bitter snort and answered:

"You need wool to make thread and you need sheep to have wool. You cannot breed sheep in the middle of a forest. It would be more convenient for you just to buy the thread directly."

"But you seem to know a lot about herbs. You know which ones are useful for dying, you know how to use them to cure wounds… nobody here has that kind of knowledge."

He remained silent for a few seconds and Marian was starting to believe that he wouldn’t answer, when he finally said:

"Even if I taught you how to spin and dye and weave, even if I taught you everything I know about herbs, i wouldn’t be able to pay the hospitality you have already shown to us."

"But...

"I have a bad leg. I’m useless. I cannot run, I cannot fight, I cannot hunt. I am weak," he finished, gesturing towards his staff.

"That doesn’t make you weak. It only means your strength lies elsewhere."

She was still talking when a dove appeared on the clearing. It went straight towards Dove. The man stroked the bird softly and took the piece of parchment it had attached to one of its feet and handed it to Marian. She read it and groaned:

"Ugh. I hope he chokes on his beer." 

She turned her head mortified by the possibility of Roland overhearing her, but the child seemed oblivious to their conversation.

Dove looked intently at her and she explained:

"It’s Stephen of Rodesbury. Nottingham passed by his house this morning. If they don't have the money to pay him by sunset, he will make it up with the 'services'" _-_ she spat on the floor - "of their daughter."

The hand of Rumplestiltskin tightened around the stick with which he was stirring the pot. Dove tilted his head.

"He is going with a guard of soldiers. I have told Robin… but, how are we going to get 200 pieces of gold before sunset?"

"Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s…"  said the spinner quietly.

Dove and maid Marian turned to look at him.

"If the sheriff has been collecting taxes all day, he has money enough, doesn't he?"

 

***

The sheriff rode through the forest, satisfied with how things were going on that day. The collection had gone better than expected, and there was another kind of satisfaction to look forward to at sunset. Nottingham was distracted from his lecherous thoughts when he saw a crippled man hunched under the weight of a beer barrel. He suddenly felt thirsty.

"Hey! Cripple!"

The man stopped and turned towards him.

"Where are you going?"

"To… to.. Nott...Nottingham, sir," the man stuttered, "a good man gave me some of this beer as alms and I intend to sell it there."

"You are lying!" The sheriff shouted, and the man cowered, "you stole that beer!"

"No, sir, indeed not. It is alms, I swear."

"I have crossed paths with many scoundrels like you. I can recognize stolen beer when I see it. Give that barrel to me."

"But, sir…"

"Now! Before my mercy runs out and I put you to rotten in jail!"

The sheriff dismounted his horse and the man, trembling, gave him the barrel.

"Go away. Now! And avoid crossing my path again unless you want to taste the bars of a jail."

The crippled man hobbled as fast as he could and disappeared from sight. The sheriff tied the horse to a tree and laid under its shadow to enjoy the beer. About a yard away from there Dove looked questioningly to Rumplestiltskin who was joining him.

"In half an hour he will be sleeping like a baby."

 

***

 

The night had fallen on Sherwood forest. At the merry men’s lair everybody was having the night meal in silence, as if waiting for something to happen. Suddenly, the noise of feet cracking leaves and twigs was heard, and a man, panting, appeared in front of them and started to speak really fast:

"Thank you, thank you, thank you! The sheriff’s men showed up, just as you said they would, without him. We gave them the coins and asked them to give us a receipt for them. At first they refused, just as you said they would, but we told them we needed something to show to the sheriff in case he came before he could find them. They weren’t happy about that, but finally gave in. Around an hour later Nottingham came. He was furious when he discovered what had happened, but we told him the receipt would find its way to the king if he ever tried to lay a finger again on anyone of us. As he was alone and all our family was there, he couldn’t do anything, so he went away. We are so grateful to you, Robin. How can we pay you for this?"

"The ones you have to thank are Rumplestiltskin, who was the one who came up with the plan, and Dove and Marian, who helped him," Robin answered when the man finally let him say something.

Maid Marian looked towards the spinner and his son. Bae’s eyes were shining with pride and Rumplestiltskin had his gaze bashfully fixed on his food. Feeling observed, he raised his eyes and met maid Marian’s gaze. Her expression made him remember her words of earlier that day: _that only means your strength lies elsewhere_. Maybe she was right. Marian tore her gaze away and addressed the messenger:

"Our friends here are on their way to Avonlea and could use some kind of speed up on their journey…"

The man shifted uncomfortably.

"It's just... I think we can spare a cart for a few days, but as most men and horses are employed in the harvest… we can spare only one horse and we have no one to send with them and take the cart and the horse back to us afterwards."

Dove rose up. Robin, surprised, asked him:

"Are you sure, my friend?"

Dove nodded. The man, recovering his heartiness, said:

"It’s all settled, then! I’ll go now and tell my father. I’ll meet you at the forest edge tomorrow at terce." The man bowed and disappeared in the night.

The next morning, Rumplestiltskin and Bae woke up with the first rays of the sun. They packed their belongings hurriedly and after having a quick snack, they said goodbye to everyone. Maid Marian smiled when the spinner gave her the wool he had dyed the day before.

"Thank you, Rumplestiltskin. I think the merry men will be wearing Lincoln green for years to come," she said, smiling bittersweetly.

She then turned to Dove and told him to take care of himself, eat well and have enough sleep, as only a mother could do. The big man looked like a child, listening to her with his eyes on the ground and bowing his head after every sentence she’d say.

Finally, they parted. They had covered a few yards when suddenly, Dove took Rumplestiltskin by the waist and pulled him over his shoulder.

"Wait… What?"

The big man pointed to the shadows the trees projected on the forest floor and made a gesture with his hand. The spinner sighed and said nothing. Dove was right: if they didn’t hurry they wouldn’t be there on time. Bae shrugged and winked to his father and hurried to keep up with Dove’s long steps. When they reached the edge of the forest, the same man that had came to the Merry Men’s lair the day before was waiting for them. A brown horse tied to a modest cart was kicking impatiently the dusty path. The man didn’t seem to be shocked by Dove’s behavior and Rumplestiltskin thought to himself that it probably wasn’t the first time he saw him carrying someone this way. After the customary greetings, Dove put the spinner and his son on the cart as if they weighted no more that a few pounds. The man thanked them again and wished them a safe journey.

And this is how they left behind Sherwood forest, happy to be closer to their destination but a bit wistful for the new friends they had made there. The weather was fair, and the only thing they could complain about was that the sun was still too hot for that time of the year. Being once again in cultivated land, they didn’t lack food, neither for them or the horse, and a few days later, when Rumplestiltskin felt on his face the breeze of the sea, he thought that this adventure was coming to an end. Little did he know that, in fact, it was only the start of it.


	5. Perfect Timing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple and Bae meet Belle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay. This is a short chapter, but the next one will be up soon (Hopefully).

 

  _Sketch of Guyrapitã Michí, the red fairy, as conceived by Maenrest Corona._

Bae looked at his father and saw that he was clenching his teeth. It had been a damp morning and that was never good for his bad leg. On top of that, they had been selling their wares almost non stop since their arrival to the market that day.

“Papa, go, sit. I’ll take care of this.”

“I’m fine, son, it’s nothing.”

“No, it is something. I have known you my entire life. I can tell when you are in pain.”

“I’m not useless still,” answered the spinner, reaching out to rearrange the thread on the booth. Bae put his hands on Rumple’s, to stop him.

“Papa. You’ve been overexerting your bad leg, not only the last few days, but for the last few months. I just want you to sit for a while and have some rest. Please.”

Rumple looked his son into the eye and with an almost imperceptible sigh, headed to the fountain a few feet away and took sit at its edge. Fishes of all the colors of the rainbow came close to him, in hopes of being fed. The spinner closed his eyes and basked in the warmth of the sun for a few seconds, and then turned to watch the fishes. Everything was well… too well for his liking. He couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom hovering over them. So far, they had arrived to the village and fulfilled their pilgrimage at the sanctuary; they had found a place to stay for the time being; they had started spinning and selling thread, and they were doing well at that. Dove had somehow managed to find someone to drive the cart back to Sherwood and had found a job as a coachman. Rumple was astonished at the man’s ability to achieve whatever he wanted without saying a word. He then turned to look at his boy and wondered how had he become such a handsome young man in such a short span of time. At the age of fourteen he behaved mature enough to take care of the business. He was musing all this things when something caught his eye.

Two figures clad in black from head to toe, one holding the other’s arm, were trying to buy some herbs on the stall beside his. The woman who was attending to them made no efforts to conceal her contempt.  _Penitents_ , he thought to himself. That was the kind of clothes penitents would wear. He remembered the time his own aunts dressed like that because they couldn’t stand to see the villagers treat penitents badly and do nothing about it. He felt the urge to help them in some way. If only they stopped by his stall…

 

***

 

Once Belle realised that the parchment contained a prophecy, she read and reread it until she could say it by heart, and then destroyed it. She knew well that it wasn’t in the book in first place: some magic,  _someone_ had placed it there for her to find just then, and that must have meant that it was for her and her alone to see. Whenever she was awake, she was musing about it and trying to understand its meaning. Seven winters and another seven winters… it couldn’t be literal. But seven was the number of perfection, and so it was safe to assume that it meant two periods of time carried to fulfillment. That wasn’t really helpful. She guessed the lilythe prophecy spoke of was her; all female heirs to the title of Avonlea were symbolized by lilies, as all male heirs were symbolized by agapanthus, and she was the first female in generations. She didn’t know what to think of the rest of the prophecy. Who was this sparrow and how was she to find him? What was that thing about the shiny cowbird? Did it meant that the sparrow was a prisoner?

All these questions and many more she asked herself while in the way to Avonlea and during their stay on the village. Every day there, Belle and Chovnia would don the black garment she had to wear to avoid direct sunlight and wander through the squares and the markets looking for… something. Their efforts had been, until that point, unsuccessful. On the last day Belle was dejected. She had had a gut feeling that this trip would provide at least another piece for the puzzle, and yet, there was not even a hint of it. She decided to go out once more, not because she thought this time would be different, but to try and distract herself from her most somber thoughts.

It was while they were buying some herbs that she noticed a merchant that wasn’t there the last time she visited the village. The man and a boy who seemed to be his son had filled the stall with fine thread of a wide variety of colors. She tugged in Chovnia’s arm and they headed there. She started surveying the different threads and ignoring everything else —she couldn’t believe the citizens of her own town were so rude and self-righteous, and several times she was tempted of removing the veil that covered her face to shame them, but prudence and consideration for Chovnia had held her back. Her hand stroked a spool of soft, lincoln green thread, and she thought it would be ideal for that dress she had been planning on having since forever. She took it and asked in her now unsteady voice:

“How much for this?”

“Nothing,” the older spinner answered. Belle’s heart leaped on her chest. She had heard that voice before, but she couldn’t put her finger on when or where. She darted her eyes towards his face and met his amber eyes. He blushed and added, stuttering a little:

“If you’ll have it, of course.”

Belle smiled widely, but then remembered that he couldn’t see it; in fact, if it were not for his reaction, she would have doubted he could even see her eyes.

“Thank you…”

“Rumplestiltskin,” he provided at the hint.

She tried to curtsy but her legs failed her and if it were not for Chovnia, who took her by the arm, she would have fallen to the floor. She wanted to cry in frustration at how even the most plain, everyday things were now a challenge to her. Chovnia said a couple polite words to the spinners and they disappeared in the crowd, carrying with them the beautiful green thread.

All had returned to normality a few minutes later and the incident seemed to be forgotten. That evening, however, while spinning, Rumple was occupied thinking of a way to create a dye on a shade of caribbean blue, and thinking of that color was that he dozed off that night. Little did he know that in a carriage, on the road to Avonlea’s castle, the girl of the caribbean blue eyes was in the middle of a delirium. Her maid was tending to her and trying to soothe her pain and bring down her fever. Everything seemed to stop when she called with faint voice:

“Rumplestiltskin…”

 

***

 

A few quiet days passed for Rumplestiltskin and Bae, until the morning in which a guard of soldiers, escorting a herald, came to the market. The hustle of the fair receded as the herald stood in front of the fountain and started proclaiming:

“By the will of our beloved lord and ruler of this land, sir Maurice of Avonlea, is issued the following order:

That anyone who come to be in possession of any information about a man called Rumplestiltskin, must turn it immediately to the authorities.”

The herald couldn’t add anything else because all the eyes of the merchants turned towards the booth in which Rumple and Bae were selling their wares. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as the people shouted:

“it’s him, it’s him, the spinner! the lame man!”

And the soldiers came their way. He panicked.

“Run, son, go away!”

“No, papa, I’ll stay with you.”

“Please, run!  _Find Dove!_ ”

Bae hesitated for a split second, but then understanding dawned on his eyes. He sprinted away and disappeared in the crowd. Nobody paid any attention to him at all, focused as they were on the spectacle. The soldiers grabbed Rumplestiltskin, who with great effort remained silent, and pushed him towards one of the side streets where a cart with a big cage in it was waiting for them. They shoved him into the cage and locked it. As the cart started to move, he thought to himself that his worst fears were about to come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Belle's black garment is something in between a burqa and the typical garment of the penitents of the Spanish Holy Week confraternities.
> 
> I want to thank Maenrest Corona for the beautiful fanart.


	6. Love at 104ºF

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumple is captured and taken to sir Maurice's castle. Once there, he discovers the identity of the girl of the caribbean blue eyes.

_Sketch of Guyrapitã's wand, as conceived by Maenrest Corona_

 

All hopes of being jailed in the village left Rumplestiltskin when the cart reached the outskirts of Avonlea. He didn’t understand. His only crime was trying to start a new life there. They had come so far… for nothing. He always knew there was a risk of the authorities finding out they were outsiders, but he had hoped that it would take them longer to make the discovery. He started to sob quietly, but then he told himself that he needed to think of something, to make a plan to get out of this. _Your strength lies elsewhere._ Maybe if he kept his mouth shut, they wouldn’t go after Bae. Dove would take care of him. He tried not to think of being separated of his son. Hope flickered in his soul. What if they were just planning on leaving him a few miles away from the village? He could walk to another town and then try to reach Baelfire somehow. The hours passed as he entertained himself with these thoughts.

It was a mystery, though. Why the order was to give him over and not both of them? The sun had set down the horizon long ago by now. He gazed the stars. One of them twinkled and he had again that sensation of them being the ones gazing into him. A bend on the road showed him sir Maurice’s castle bathed by the moonlight. They weren’t just taking him out of town, they were taking him to the castle. But Why? Why? And suddenly it dawned on him. He was an outsider who came from a very distant place; his accent betrayed him. Of course they would think he was a spy and his injured foot and the boy, a cover up. They were taking him to the castle to interrogate him before killing him, he realised in horror. The cart left the paved way and the wheels made a wooden floor creack beneath them. They were arriving. A woman’s shriek made his heart rattle against his ribs, but the guards seemed unfazed as they opened the cage and dragged him out of it.

They entered the castle and passed several corridors illuminated by candlelight. The lighting and the somewhat forced silence of the castle made him think of a sick-chamber. They finally arrived to a room with little, high windows. A throne against the wall was the only furniture to be seen there. One of the soldiers inspected his clothes and found the safe-conduct. He passed it to his captain, in the middle of Rumple’s protests. The man opened it, read it and then frowned. He said something to the soldiers in a hushed tone of voice and disappeared through the door. A few minutes later, Maurice entered the room. He was wearing a rich maroon tunic with golden bias, but the splendor of his clothes didn’t match the expression of his face, a mixture of sadness, fatigue and dejection. When Rumple saw the expensive fabrics and furs the man was wearing, he realized he was the baron himself.

“So… Rumplestiltskin” the man started, walking back and forth in front of him “you might by now know exactly why you are here”.

Rumple couldn’t help but shudder. He couldn’t make a sound. Maurice eyed him.

“This paper says you are from Longbourn, in the Frontlands and the seal tells me that your pilgrimage is fulfilled. Why is it that my soldiers found you selling at the market?”

“Sir… I… I…” he stuttered “we… we were planning on staying here...”

“Why?”, growled Maurice.

Rumple broke into sobs. “I swear… please… I am no spy. I… I came… because… because… my son… he deserved a better life… we are no spies. I am no spy. The duke of my land loathes me. You… you see? see… this…” he pointed to his injured foot “I did this to myself. I ran from the battlefield in the Ogres War”. The tone of his voice was more desperate every minute. “I.. I… just... didn’t want my son to be the son of the town’s coward all his life”. Maurice stared at him.

“I… I… just… let me go. Please. I swear, I am no spy. You… you can send anyone to Longbourn and they will tell you this is the truth”.

Maurice sighed heavily and turning away, headed to the door. He stopped at the threshold and said:

“You really don’t have a clue, do you?” and without waiting for an answer, he left the room. The soldiers that were holding him shifted uncomfortably. A few minutes passed before a physician entered the room. He smiled widely when he saw the spinner.

“Here you are! We are so glad you are here to help!”

The soldiers released him, frowning, and the physician, putting a hand on his back, leaded him to the door.

“My name is Ambrose, and I am the baroness physician. She is, as you surely know by now, extremely ill. It’s very strange… But at long last, this night we might discover something”.

Rumple tried to process this information as they walked through the candlelit corridors. What did he had to do with the baron’s wife?

“I… I don’t understand. I haven’t met the baron or his wife until today”.

The doctor seemed to be having a hard time trying to not laugh.

“I’m not referring to the late baroness —may she rest in peace— but to her daughter, lady Belle. I’m quite sure you both have met before”.

They walked in silence another few steps and then Ambrose blurted out:

“It’s fascinating, truly fascinating. It’s like an enormous bag full of seed, and then there’s this particular grain. Someone shakes the bag violently and nobody knows why, this little seed ends up on top of all and is the one to be picked among the others. Why? Who knows. Fascinating”.

Rumplestiltskin was dazed. It all felt like a nightmare, but he was sure he was awake.

“Where are we going?” he finally asked.

“To the baroness’ bedchamber, of course”.

Rumple stopped dead in his tracks.

“What?”

“Don’t be worried, she doesn’t remember anything of what happens during the night. And you won’t be left alone with her, as much as it would solve this problem faster and less awkwardly. Oh, well, but we have to make do with whatever we have”.

“What am I supposed to do?”, Asked Rumplestiltskin, rising his eyebrows and shaking his head frantically.

“Just to play along. You’ll know when you get there”.

They arrived at big wooden door. The physician opened it and pushed the spinner inside. Rumplestiltskin found himself in a room twice the size of his old hovel, richly decorated in blue and gold. There were candles lit in every horizontal surface. On the opposite side of the room, two men stood at the footboard of a canopied bed. One was the baron himself, and the other, a tall officer of unreadable countenance. A movement on the bed draw his attention and a pair of caribbean blue eyes fixed on him and exclaimed:

“Rumplestiltskin! You came!”

The girl extended her arm and motioned him to approach her. Rumple turned his face over his shoulder to look desperately to the physician, who answered his mute question by making a rolling gesture with his hands. _Play along._

The spinner approached the bed slowly and stopped at its footboard. Belle furrowed.

“Come closer!”

He went to her side and she extended her arm again. He raised his eyes. On the other side of the bed, a lady maid was preparing a damp cloth while another two stood behind her. One of them took an upholstered stool and put it behind him. He took sit on it, afraid of ruining with his clothes the beautiful fabric, and laid his staff against the wall. He took Belle’s hand, that was damp and boiling with fever.

“I knew you’d come” she said, beaming.

Rumplestiltskin blushed deeply as he noticed that she was barely covered by a thin shift. He focused his gaze on her face, and his heart ached. Her face was emaciated, as were her arms and hands. Her skin had a sickly yellowish hue and big dark circles rounded her eyes, that were sunk in their sockets.

“Why are you so silent?” she asked.

He tried to smile as he searched in his mind for words. He looked at her hand, now between his, and started to draw little circles in it with his fingers. She released a contented sigh and he could feel the gaze of the two men at the bed footboard on him like daggers. He continued to massage her wrist and gazing into her eyes, he told her:

“I'm here now. Everything is gonna be alright”.

She smiled again, her feverish eyes full of adoring sweetness. Rumple didn’t recall anyone looking at him this way in all his life. Belle then scanned the faces of all the present, furrowing, and turned to look at him again. Suddenly, she closed her eyes and her chest started to raise and fall faster. Her hand, that until then was resting limp on his, was now squeezing it to the point of numbness. Her other hand grasped the bedsheets and she clenched her jaw. Her maid wiped her brow with a damp cloth and offered one to Rumple. He held Belle’s hand reassuringly and bending closer to her, helped Chovnia. He somehow felt like he was fighting a battle side by side with the two brave women he had met at the market, not knowing they were a lady and her maid. He didn’t know how much time had passed when Belle’s breath became less ragged, her hands lessened the hold and she opened her eyes again, giving him the same look as before.

“I knew… I knew you wouldn’t abandon me.”

“shush, shush… everything is gonna be alright, you’ll see.”

This scene repeated itself several times that night. Finally, when the hour in which the rooster sings came, she let go of his hand and fell asleep. The maid by the other side of the bed let out a deep sigh and then breathed a _thank you_ to him. Before he could react, a soldier materialized by his side and grabbed his arm, barely giving him time to take his staff before dragging him out. The man led him by corridors and several stairs towards a tower. He opened a door and shoved him in, closing and locking the door behind him.

“Papa!”

He raised his head just on time to see his son tackle him into a hug.

“bae, What are you doing here?” he asked, relieved and worried at the same time.

“I tried to sneak inside and they caught me.”

“You should have stayed at the village, but I’m glad to see you” Rumple said, ruffling his son’s hair.

“What happened to you, papa? What do they want?”

“I’m fine, son. The baroness is ill and they wanted me to help.”

Bae raised an eyebrow.

“Believe me, I don’t understand it either.”

Suddenly, the noise of someone opening the door was heard, and Chovnia appeared at the threshold carrying a wooden tray with milk, bread, butter and jam on it. A soldier was standing behind her. She entered the room and laid the tray on a haystack. It was only then that Rumple noticed the room was filled with them.

“Breakfast”, she said tiredly, motioning them to approach.

They thanked her and and ate everything in a blink. Meanwhile, she told them:

“My lord wants me to tell you that you are to stay here until the baroness’ full recovery. You will be here during the day, not to be seen or heard. At sunset a soldier will come to escort you to her bedchamber and then back here at sunrise. You’ll be provided food and drink, but your boy must work for it. The stable boy will come to fetch him later today.”

“Will I be able to see my father?” Bae asked anxiously.

“Well, that’s up to him, but he is a good man. I think you’ll convince him”, said she, smiling now. “Is there anything else with which I can help you?”

“I… I am a spinner… May I…?”

“A wheel, yes. Well, I’ll see what can be done about that.”

“Thank you…”

“Chovnia. I’m very sorry for all of this.”

“It’s not your fault.”

She gave them a sad smile and turned to leave.

“Is… is it always like that? I mean, every night?”

Chovnia turned around slowly and answered:

“No… it’s… worse.”

Rumplestiltskin recalled with a shudder the way she had squeezed his hand and clenched her teeth in pain the night prior.

“She…” the voice of the maid faltered “she didn’t scream last night. She fought like she used to the first days. You comforted her. I don’t know how you did it, but you did it.”

There was a second in which Rumple was too stunned and Bae too confused to say anything. Chovnia wiped the tears that had appeared on her eyes and added:

“Thank you.”

And turning around, left the room.

Father and son then worked on organizing the haystacks as to make the room more habitable.

“What happened to the baroness? Why is she ill?”

“I don’t know. She was running a very high fever and seemed to be in pain.”

“And what did you do?”

“I just did the same thing I do when you are sick. I held her hand, told her that everything was going to be fine and wiped her brow with a damp cloth.”

“And why was that special? It’s strange.”

“Indeed it is.”

The door opened again and a boy a few years older than Bae stepped in. He was tall and thin and slouched a bit. His countenance was melancholy, but his big brown eyes radiated warmth and kindness.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. I’m Aelainrest and I’m looking for my new assistant… What’s your name?”

“I’m Baelfire.”

“All right, then, Baelfire. Have you ever ride a horse?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, that means we should start your apprenticeship as soon as possible… Maybe… right now?”

Bae looked towards his father, who nodded and then, with a little smile dancing in his lips, left the tower behind Aelainrest, leaving Rumple alone with his thoughts.

Meanwhile, at the fairies lair, Guyrapitã saw the lily in the bell jar start to glow faintly. She smiled and made a little happy dance. _It’s happening_ , she muttered under her breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank Maenrest Corona for the beautiful fanart.


	7. Dreams

_A dream I dreamt last night_

_little dream of my soul;_

_I dreamt of my beloved,_

_that in my arms I had them._

 

**_34 years earlier_ **

The light of the full moon entered through the windows of the empty castle, illuminating the female figure that paced through the corridors. She wore a red dress and carried a magic wand in her right hand. She was singing softly an old lullaby, in a hoarse voice. The redness of her eyes betrayed that she had been crying. A little blue light came through the window, and next thing, the Blue fairy was standing in front of her.

“Red one… I was worried about you.”

The red fairy looked down.

“It was all my fault.”

“You should have asked before doing anything, that’s right. But this experience can be a good lesson for you. Next time you’ll do better.”

“They are gone. He is gone. I failed. Why didn’t you stop believing in me?”

The Blue fairy smiled.

“Young fairies do foolish things when they start. Of course, they have to learn their lessons and behave accordingly when a new opportunity to prove themselves shows up.”

“There won’t be a second chance for me.”

“You are mistaken,” the Blue fairy retorted. “A new prophecy has been recorded in the book of the fairies.”

Guyrapitã’s face lightened up.

“I’ll do anything…”

“The only thing I ask of you is to obey and not withhold information from me this time. Did I make myself clear?” the Blue fairy cut her sharply.

“Yes, Blue,” answered Guyrapitã bowing her head.

“Good. Come on, then! Let’s go!”

The Blue fairy shrinked and exited through a window, and the Red one followed her.

**_34 years later_ **

Bae and Aelainrest were sitting by a fire a few feet away from the door of the stables. Several weeks had passed since their arrival to the castle and Bae, intelligent and curious as he was, had learned his duties fast. With the new help, the work as the stables was less time consuming, and left them with some spare time. Was then that Bae discovered that Aelainrest knew how to emboss leather and wood, and had immediately asked to be taught the skill. He was now engrossed in graving a geometrical pattern on a stick. Aelainrest, who was in turn working on a leather piece, hesitated. _Ask him about his family_ , Chovnia had told him several times. _You know she won’t stop until you do it, right?_ he told himself.

“So, how’s Longbourn like?” he tried to ask as casually as he could.

Bae stopped and after thinking for a few seconds, resumed his work and answered:

“Well, is a city on the coast, like Avonlea. But colder. And more humid, too.”

There was a minute of silence.

“Aaand… Do you have any family there?”

“My mother abandoned us for a pirate a few years ago, if that’s what you are trying to ask. She and my papa didn’t get along well before that. I think that’s why I don’t have any siblings,” Bae said without tearing his eyes from his work.

Something struck Aelainrest, who paled.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” the boy replied with a sad smile. A loud whinny coming from the stables made them jump to their feets.

“Another cub?”

“It seems so,” Aelainrest said, picking a shovel that was resting against the doorframe of the stable. A few minutes, shouts, and metallic sounds after, the young wolf raced towards the woods and the voice of Bae trying to calm down Phillipe was heard. Once the horse was quiet enough again, Aelainrest said:

“Why don’t we go back to the castle now? There’s something I must do before dinner and I think you’ll like to have some extra time with your father, don’t you?”

Bae beamed and both returned to the castle. Rumple saw them coming from afar. He had been spinning for hours until the soreness on his feet and hands told him it was time for a break. The tower overlooked part of the castle’s gardens, a few lines of trees and then the sea. He loved to sit at one of the windows and contemplate the landscape.

He wondered if it was because the many hours he spent every night gazing into the eyes of the brave baroness, but he couldn’t look at the sea and not think about her. She was slowly getting better: her skin had a healthier color now, and she had gained a few pounds. The duration of her fever during the night had shortened too: it started long after sunset and ended way before sunrise.

She was more talkative too. On the climax of the delirium, she would speak incoherently about fairies and curses, and noblemen, and birds, and flowers; during the quiet moments, she would ask questions; questions about the night sky, the village and the castle; she would ask him not to abandon her. The wind moved his hair a little and he couldn’t resist to recall how his breath had hitched in his throat the night she had reached out and stroked his hair.

“Do you find me attractive?” she had asked and panic had rushed through his veins. He had looked desperately to the physician, who had given him a short nod for an answer.

“Yes. Yes. You are beautiful,” he had answered, feeling Maurice’s eyes stabbing his nape.

“You are very handsome, too,” she had answered happily.

He forced himself out of his reverie. That girl, the girl that was madly in love with him, didn’t exist. She was just the product of a fever and nothing more. He felt guilt. He felt guilt for every time he unconsciously had relished on her loving gaze or her soft touch; for every time his heart had longed for her. He now turned to look inside, to the spinning wheels Dove had managed to sneak into the castle for them, and the spools of thread he had successfully dyed caribbean blue the day prior. He wanted to trash them and at the same time, to keep them.

The voices in the stairs made him remember that Bae and Aelainrest were coming. He returned to the wheel just in time for the door hinges to creack and the door to open. Bae had brought dinner from the kitchen for them, and as they ate, the boy told him about his day.

Meanwhile, at her bedchamber, Belle was getting ready for the night.

“What’s this medicine doctor Ambrose is giving me?”

“I have told you already, my lady. He want’s to keep it a secret.”

Belle frowned as she sat on the bed. She knew Chovnia wasn’t being totally sincere.

“It’s strange. For some time now I have this dream… I keep falling on the void until a hand grabs mine and then I find myself climbing a mountain. I know there’s someone waiting for me in the top, but when I am almost there I fall again… and don’t remember anything else after that.”

Chovnia tried to school her features into an indifferent expression, but failed miserably.

Belle decided she had to investigate this thing by herself. If the prophecy was right, this mysterious medicine doctor Ambrose had concocted and her dreams had to do with the sparrow, whoever he was. She laid in her bed and looked towards the canopy. She had had another dream besides the one she had told Chovnia about. It was like a story, of a boy and a girl who met and fell in love; she’d seen their wedding, and some happy moments of them; and then, darkness, screams, people running in all directions, the crying of a baby and then… silence.

Those had been her dreams for the last few weeks, the dreams she had had the night prior and the dreams she was getting ready to dream again that night.

Chovnia left the room to fetch the other maids and almost collided with Aelainrest, who was trailing along the corridor with his head low.

“Ael, child, what’s the matter?”

“I spoke with Baelfire today”

“And…?”

“Do you remember that pirate ship the royal army captured a few months ago?”

“Yes…”

“Do you remember when they couldn’t decide who the captain was, he or she, and decided to hang both?”

“Yes…” Chovnia’s face fell.

Aelainrest opened a little notebook he had on his hand and showed her a drawing of a little boy.

“I think she was his mother.”

 

***

 

When Rumplestiltskin returned to the tower, a few hours before sunrise, he found Bae kneeling on the floor, crying. He had a notebook in his hands.

“Bae, What’s the matter?” he said, kneeling by his son with great effort and hugging him.

The boy hid his face on his father’s tunic and offering him the notebook, said:

“She’s dead.”

Rumple paled and took the notebook. The yellowish page was occupied by a drawing of Bae as a little child. He turned the pages, feeling a knot forming in his stomach. Between drawings of ships and maps and islands, there were also sketches of Longbourn, of their hovel and even of their spinning wheels.

“But… how…”

“Aelainrest… gave me… said he… he wasn’t sure” Bae said between sobs.

“Captured… months ago… judged… sentenced…”

“Oh, my boy,” Rumple said, his voice cracking.

“I… I… shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be crying. Doesn’t... deserve.”

“She was your mother, son. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

The boy sobbed again and Rumple, leaving the notebook on the floor, hugged him tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The poem cited at the start is the first stanza of the Ballad of The Lover and Death.
> 
> What do you think of the story so far? Comments are as precious as messages in a bottle!


	8. The Man in the Tower

Chovnia opened the windows of Belle’s bedchamber and a crisp gust of wind entered the room accompanied by the sweet rays of the sun. Belle, dressed on a sky blue dress stepped on the balcony smiling and basking in the sun. For the first time in months she was feeling like herself again.  Gaston had been called to his father’s side, and the warm and breezly day invited her to wander through the castle. She remembered how when she was a little girl she loved go all the way up to the southern tower and contemplate from there the view of the sea, and her feet lead her there. 

When she reached the last flight of the stairs, she noticed that the door to the tower’s top room was closed. She approached the door carefully and applied her ear to it: she heard the noise of wood creaking with a repetitive pattern. Belle then peeked through the keyhole. On the sunlit room, a man was sitting at a spinning wheel, his back to the door. His thin body was covered by typical peasant, patched, worn out tunic and breeches, and the back of his head was covered by a disheveled mane.

The man suddenly stopped the wheel and turned his head towards the door. Belle backed and went downstairs as fast and as silently as she could. A name popped in her head:  _ Rumplestiltskin _ .

Of course it was him. But, what was he doing on a tower on her castle? And suddenly, everything was clear. The new stable boy that had come out of nowhere and his familiar face, Chovnia’s refusal to tell her about doctor Ambrose’s medicines, how she disappeared every day before the meals, the awkward glances she and Aelainrest exchanged whenever she asked something regarding her fever… This man had something to do with her recovery and she was going to discover what.

She found Chovnia at the kitchen’s door holding a tray containing a bowl of stew and a loaf of bread.

“Whose that’s meal for, Chovnia?”

The maid blushed deeply.

“Chovnia” she said, squeezing her maid’s arm “you know you can tell me anything. Why didn’t you tell me about the man in the tower?”

Tears formed in the older woman’s eyes. Belle’s lips became a straight line.

“He blackmailed you, didn’t he?”

Chovnia sobbed.

“He told me that if I said anything, he’d throw Ael out and made sure that I slept on a corridor for the rest of my life, my lady.”

“Chovnia, tell me what you know, please. I  _ need _ to know.”

Chovnia hesitated for a second and then answered:

“My lady, please, can we talk somewhere else?”

“Of course, I’m sorry.”

Chovnia led her to her bedchamber and closed the door behind them. She placed the tray on the vanity, and said:

“My lady, please, sit down.”

Belle obeyed, looking at her maid with concern. Chovnia wiped her hands with her apron.

“My lady, do you remember the last time we visited Avonlea?”

“Of course, I even remember trying to buy him thread and he giving it to me for free.”

“Good. That same night, when the fever came to you again, you called his name.”

Belle frowned.

“I don’t know why, my lady, heavens knows why! I tried to keep it from your father, but you called him the night after, several times. And then the night after, and the night after that one…”

“But… how? I mean, I just... repeated his name over and over again?”

“Well, sometimes it was just his name, sometimes you asked why he wasn’t there, why wasn’t he coming, why were we preventing him from coming… Your father was outraged. Heaven knows what was he thinking that meant.”

Belle blushed.

“What did he do to him?”

“Well, he wanted to hang him, but doctor Ambrose gave some kind of medical explanation to the whole thing and calmed him down. He sent some soldiers to arrest him and bring him here. The doctor said he had a plan, and your father let him do.”

“So… he makes some kind of concoction or…”

“Well, that’s the most strange thing, my lady. He comes every night and does everything you ask him to do, answers your questions, wipes your brow and tells you the things one tells to a sick child. That’s all.”

“He.. he does everything I ask him to?” Belle asked blushing even more.

“Well, you don’t really ask much, my lady. You ask him to hold your hand, to come closer, to look at something…”

Belle let out a breath.

“But… what does anything of this have to do with my recovery?”

“Heaven knows, my lady! I just know that it seems to soothe you and that your fever recedes. And that’s really all that I needed to know.”

“And father has him locked in the tower so that I don’t find out he is here?”

“That’s right, my lady.”

“He arrested a man, has made him spend his nights awake taking care of a sick person, and he paid him back by making his son work at the stables and locking him in a tower?!” said Belle, standing up and clenching her fists. “I am going to tell him exactly what I think.”

“My lady, please, don’t rush to do something you are going to regret later.”

“Chovnia…”

“Why… Why don’t you write down what you want to say?” Chovnia tried to dissuade her. “Think if there is something you can do for him before talking to your father.”

Belle looked into the dark, warm, pleading eyes of her maid for several seconds until a sudden idea brightened her own.

“Of course, Chovnia, of course, you are right!” she turned frantically left and right, gathering her skirts with her hands, until her eyes found the desk. She sat, grabbed parchment and a quill and started to write at full speed. Once she had finished, she blew the parchment until the ink was dry, folded it and sealed it.

“Chovnia, take this to Ael and tell him to send someone with this to queen Snow White. Tell him it is urgent.”

Chovnia grabbed the letter and tried to put it on the tray, but Belle stopped her:

“I’ll take care of this, don’t worry. Go, please.”

Chovnia obeyed and turned to go but Belle stopped her again.

“I’m sorry, would you give me the keys?”

Chovnia chuckled now, drawing the keys from the pocket of her apron. Belle had always been prone to be absentminded and clumsy.

“Try not to drop the thing before you get there or the poor man will be left without food.”

“Chovnia...” Belle answered with a playful pout “I’m not a child anymore.”

The woman laughed heartily and left the room followed by Belle. She made her way through the corridors and the stairs, praying that the stew were still warm enough. She finally got to the door and holding the tray between her left hand and her hip, unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Rumple turned around to look at the newcomer and stood up hastily, almost losing his balance, when he saw Belle.

“My… my lady.” he said breathless.

“I… um... came to bring you this.” She said, lifting up the tray. “I’m sorry for the delay, I think it is still warm.” she added, leaving it on the haystack closer to the wheel.

Rumplestiltskin blinked.

“Is… is there something wrong?”

This question finally snapped up him.

“No, no, of course not, my lady.”

He turned to offer her the wheel’s stool, but then thought that if he sat on a haystack, he’d be sitting higher than her. Belle guessed his impasse and smiled amused.

“I’ll sit on the window” she said, swaying her arms “it has been ages since the last time I watched the sea from here.”

He smiled slightly and once she was sitting, he sat down too. He took the bowl and the spoon but hesitated when his gazed met Belle’s. She turned to look outside.

“You know, when I was a little girl I loved to come here. I imagined myself as an explorer in the middle of an adventure.”

Rumplestiltskin relaxed and started to eat.

“I’d go all the way up the stairs, from the gloom of the bottom to the light of the top. And then I’d imagine ships on the horizon: merchants from Agrabah, carrying gold, and jewels, and spices…”

Rumplestiltskin glanced at her and his heart fluttered. He had thought impossible for her to be even more beautiful, but the way her eyes shined as she told her tale… he hadn’t seen something like that even at the highest of her fever.

“Have, have you ever been there, my lady? To Agrabah, I mean.”

She smiled bittersweetly.

“No, of course not. I’m my father’s only child. I hardly ever go farther than the village, and that doesn’t happen so often. But I read about it in my books. I do love books.”

There was a silence and then Rumplestiltskin added:

“My son, Baelfire. He loves your stories and your lessons, my lady.” He returned the bowl to the tray “I don’t know how to thank you for that.”

Reading was one of the passions of Belle’s life. She had started reading stories and teaching how to read to the children that lived in the castle since she herself had learned to. Her illness had interrupted her evening lessons, but her recent recovery had allowed her to resume them, and Aelainrest made sure that Bae attended those lessons.

“It’s nothing. It is a pleasure to teach someone so eager to learn.” She answered as she approached to pick the tray. “You must be proud of him. I have heard he is quite skilled at embossing now.”

“Aye,” he chuckled as he stood up “someday I’m going to wake up and find my wheel full of engravings.”

Belle smiled and he hurried to add:

“My lady. Thank you for the food and the beautiful story.”

“Call me Belle. It’s me the one who has to say thanks. Chovnia told me everything. I’m so sorry you have had to put up with all this. I promise that I’ll make it up to you.”

He didn’t know what to say, so he looked down.

“May I come tomorrow again?” she asked, a flicker of doubt in her voice.

“Of course, I’d like that,” He made a pause “Belle.” he finished, almost in a whisper.

“See you tomorrow, then” she beamed “Rumplestiltskin.”

The spinner thought bittersweetly that he was going to see her in a few hours, in the middle of a fever, of pain and discomfort. He looked her disappear behind the door and turned to work at his wheel once more, even if his mind was somewhere else.


	9. Unshielded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Belle's plan moves forward and sir Maurice isn't pleased. In a flashback, Guyrapitã is made a fairy godmother and something tragic happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter features some physical and psychological abuse.

A week passed since the day Belle found Rumplestiltskin at the tower. Every day she’d bring him the midday meal, and every day she’d go up earlier and come back down later. At first Belle wanted to understand if he was the sparrow the prophecy spoke of, or if he had something to do with the dreams she had, but soon she decided to stop worrying about those things and enjoy what was offered to her then and there. After all, she was healing, even if it was at an almost imperceptible pace, and she had found in the spinner someone to talk with, someone who was interested in what she had to say. 

Rumplestiltskin also had crossed the Enchanted Forest from North to South, and she was eager to hear about the things he had seen and experienced. On his side, if he had been besotted by the lady of the feverish eyes, he had now confirmed that it was but a tiny part of who she really was: he wanted to understand the depth of her kindness and her beautiful mind. She was to him like a fountain of fresh waters, always giving of herself but never running out and he was sure he’d never get tired of looking and listening to her.

On the seventh day, a horseman came from Snow White’s castle bringing a set of letters sealed with the royal seal. Belle, who had been waiting for them, intercepted the messenger at the gates and came back to the castle running, with a wide smile painted in her face. She left one of the letters at her father’s desk on the library and, after fetching the keys of the tower from Chovnia, ran to give the other to Rumplestiltskin.

She almost collided with Aelainrest, who was in his way to the stables. He stared at her as he recovered his balance and then turned to Chovnia:

“She does this because she likes him or just to punish Sir Maurice?”

“Both, son, both, but I think the first is the one she enjoys the most.”

Chovnia answered, wiping her hands on her apron and shaking her head.

Belle run up the stairs of the tower and opened hastily the door of the top room. 

“Rumplestiltskin, Rumplestiltskin!”

The man was startled when she put the letter in his hands.

“Read it. It’s for you.”

He hesitated.

“I can’t. I don’t know how.”

“Oh, I am so, so sorry… I thought… nevermind, let me read it to you.”

She took the letter from his hand and started to read:

 

“SNOW WHITE of the Enchanted Forest to our devout subject Rumplestiltskin and all of his kin to whom these Presents shall come, Greeting!

Having reached Us news of the important services you have rendered to the noble family of Avonlea on the occasion of the illness of our beloved baroness, Lady Belle of Avonlea, We want to notify you that we have decided to create you, Our devout subject, and benefactor of the noble family of Avonlea, to the dignity, state, and degree of a baronet, granting you all the rights, privileges, precedences, and advantages which baronets of Our Kingdom do at present use and enjoy.

It is on account of this designation that we summon you to Our castle for the ceremony of investiture, to be celebrated in three weeks time upon the date of the sign of this letter.”

 

By the time Belle finished reading and raised her eyes, Rumplestiltskin was shaking, his hands grasping his staff.

“No… no… there must be a mistake.” he shook his head “I have never been to court. I’d make a fool of myself.”

Belle squeezed gently his arm until he looked at her.

“It isn’t a mistake. I asked her to do something for you. You’ll do perfect. I can teach you anything you need to learn, if you want. Two weeks is more than time enough for that.”

“But… I am an artisan, not a noble man. I… What I am going to do once…”

He couldn’t find the words to continue, but Belle understood perfectly. She pushed to the back of her mind the thought of him leaving once she’d be totally recovered. She took his hand between hers; she wanted to comfort him, but also to exorcise the ghosts of absence by touching his roughened palms; to reassure herself that he was still there with her.

“Don’t you worry about that. You are a free man now, Rumple, father can’t keep you locked here anymore. I’ll go now and prepare a room downstairs for you and Bae.” she said, squeezing his hand.

He hesitated, but then smiled softly and squeezed her hand in return.

“Alright. I’ll tell Bae.”

Belle grinned and left the tower. Rumplestiltskin took the parchment and tried to guess the letters Bae had taught him. He sighed. When the boy arrived to the tower that evening, he gave him the letter. Bae jumped in excitement at the news. 

“Papa, you won’t have to go up and down this stairs anymore! And you will see the stables and all the things we have been doing with Ael!”

Rumple smiled bittersweetly and Bae frowned.

“What’s the matter?”

“We are not noblemen, Bae. What are we going to do with a baronetcy but no money once the baroness recovers?”

“Oh…” Bae looked down pensively. 

“Papa, do you like her?”

“She’s kind and beautiful, son. Who can’t like her?”

“No, I mean if you like her, if you  _ really  _ like her.” the boy retorted now looking at him.

Rumplestiltskin was now the one to look down and rub his fingers together.

“If you are a nobleman like her, you can ask her to marry you.”

“Son, baronets are lower in rank that barons. I cannot ask her to marry me.”

“That means you have thought about it.” said Bae smiling.

Rumple stood up and started to move things rather randomly.

“We should prepare everything for tomorrow.”

“Of course.” agreed Bae amused.

As every night, a soldier came to pick the spinner and lead him to Belle’s bedchamber. Once the baroness fell asleep again, Rumple noticed that sir Maurice was telling something to one of the soldiers, who nodded. 

This made him nervous. Since the day Belle had found him in the tower and told her father her mind on the subject —Rumplestiltskin himself heard her voice from the tower that night—  the soldiers that escorted him had pushed him once or twice against the walls of the corridors every night. He had kept his mouth shut and said nothing, but this thing didn’t bode well.

His heart raced when two soldiers instead of one grabbed him out of the room and through corridors he had never seen before.

“oops!” said one of them as he stepped on his right foot and grinned. Rumplestiltskin shuddered.

“Where are you taking me?”

None of them answered. They finally stopped in front of a little door and knocked. The door opened from the inside and the soldiers pushed Rumple inside, closing the door behind him. He fell on his knees on the cold stone floor. Another two soldiers were there, sharing a barrel of beer and warming up on the hearth.

“Look,” said one of them turning to look at him “here we have the baronet.”

Both men stood up and Rumple held tightly his staff, butone of the soldiers kicked it away and hit him in the ribs. He fell on the floor, shaking.

“You know, I have worked my whole life for the baron” said the other, discharging a riding crop on his back “and then a lame coward gets to be a baronet.”

He finished his remark with a kick. They kicked him again twice, until one of them said:

“You know? We should give this bastard something to make him never forget what he really is: a peasant and a coward.”

And that said he turned to the fire and picked one of the poles that had been left in it. He turned and approached the spinner, ready to mark his face. Rumple recoiled as much as his limp and his sore limbs allowed him to.

“Wait,” the other said “sir Maurice stressed that we shouldn’t hit anywhere visible.”

The first soldier grunted and shouted to the spinner:

“Uncover your arm!”

Rumple was frozen.

“Uncover your arm, he said!” the second one grabbed him by the arm and made him stand on his knees.

Shivering, Rumple drew back the sleeve of his tunic. The soldier grabbed his arm with a strong grip, so he couldn’t move, and the other branded him with the pole. The spinner couldn’t control a shriek of pain. Suddenly, the door of the room opened and the other soldiers, cursing, entered hastily. They grabbed him by the shoulders and took him to the tower, swearing all the way up there. His limbs were terribly sore, but the mark on his forearm throbbed like hell. They finally pushed him into the tower. He hobbled as fast as he could towards the basin he and Bae used to wash themselves, and submerged his arm on the water.

“Papa, what happened?” Bae asked alarmed.

Rumple said nothing, but the boy came to his side until he was close enough to see the red charred mark on his father’s forearm.

“Papa…”

***

Belle gave the last look to the room: the beds were made, the curtains drawn, a fire was burning in the hearth and a couple of chairs and a table were laid close to it. She turned just on time to see Bae enter the room carrying his father’s wheel.

“Bae! Do you like it?”

The boy didn’t even look at her as he passed. When he reached again his father’s side, the man told him something on his ear until the boy nodded. Bae then picked his own wheel, placed in inside, bowed his head and said:

“I’m sorry, lady Belle. Thank you for this room. It is beautiful.” And without looking at her, the boy left the room. Belle looked confused in his direction until her eyes met Rumple at the door frame.

“What happened to him? Did I say something wrong?” she asked, biting her lip.

“No, you didn’t. He is a bit melancholy today, that’s all.”

Belle eyed him, not convinced at all by his words. 

“Whatever it is, you can tell me, Rumple.”

“It’s nothing.” He repeated.

She approached him and took his arm, but he winced and she withdrew her hand.

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?”

He looked down. She tried to catch his eyes in vain.

“Show me, please.”

Without raising his eyes, he uncovered his arm. Belle gasped when she saw the red mark on his forearm.

“Who did this to you?!” She shouted.

“Soldiers.” He murmured.

“How could they…”

She exited the room and came back a few minutes later with a clean shirt, some pieces of cloth a basin full of water and a phial of salve.

“Come in. Sit down, please,” she motioned him as she placed the things on the table.

He obeyed, looking bewildered at her.

“take your tunic off.”

he swallowed hard and she concealed a blush.

“I can’t dress your wound properly if you don’t.”

He quivered and covered his chest with his left arm. He didn’t want her to see how frail and nothing he was —he still remembered Milah’s insults—, he didn’t want her to see the other things… And it was very unpropper for an engaged maiden to see any man in that fashion. She crouched in front of him and looked at him in earnest. 

“At night, when you come to my bedchamber, Am I dressed properly for anyone to see me?”

He looked away and didn’t answer, but started undoing the ties of his tunic as Belle prepared the clothes for the dressing. He took the garment off but covered his chest with it. When she turned again she saw the bruises in both his arms. She bit her lower lip with concern.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She didn’t wait for an answer and started massaging vigorously the salve on the bruises of his arms and shoulders, feeling self conscious when she perceived his ragged breath. He wondered if he could just close his eyes and enjoy the ride with a clean conscience. She then moved on to the forearm. The skin looked tight and red and it was covered by blisters. She cleaned it with a wet cloth and he winced, but said nothing. She then put on it a coat of salve and then secured a clean cloth over it.

“Here you go,” She said, offering him the clean shirt. “You can put this one on now.”

She turned to gather the things to get them away and he put the garment on. It had been difficult not to think of her hands on his body on a different way, but he had to accept that the salve and the dressing had done him good. Belle left the room and a few minutes later he heard her voice from a distant room:

“You were supposed to protect him! They beat him! They branded him!”

Rumplestiltskin took mental note to not infuriate the baroness under any circumstances.

“No, he didn’t tell me. I know because I saw the bruises.”

He finally could hear Maurice’s voice:

“I didn’t order them to do that! I swear!”

Rumple snorted.

“I don’t want to see any of your soldiers close to him ever again!”

“But, Belle…”

Rumple could picture in his head, somehow, the glare of the baroness.

“He needs a valet. He can come and go accompanied by him.”

“Pick whoever you want and that will be his valet.”

A peace offering, the spinner thought. 

Belle reappeared within minutes and sat on a chair by his side.

“I think we can leave the dance for another day. What about reading?” She asked smiling.

He nodded and she drew a little book from her pocket and started to teach him.

 

**_34 years earlier_ **

 

Tinkerbell and Nova found Guyrapitã crying on the steps of the fairies’ vault. They sat by her sides and asked her:

“Little bird, what’s the matter?”

“I think I have failed the test… again.”

Tink and Nova glanced at each other.

“Are you sure? What makes you think that?”

“I try, and try, and try again, focus on belief, try to draw strength from that… but it is never enough.”

The red fairy hid again her face between her hands and the other two tried to comfort her.

“Where is Blue?”

“Someone summoned her and she went away.”

“Guyrapitã”

The three fairies raised their heads to find Reoul Ghorm in front of them.

“Congratulations. You have passed the test. You are now a fairy godmother.”

The Red Fairy stood up beaming.

“Thank you, Blue. I promise I won’t disappoint you!”

“I wasn’t finished.”

The smile left Guyrapitã’s face.

“The lords of the Evergreen Castle have summoned me. Their heir has just been born, but his life is in danger. A terrible witch has menaced his life, and they pleaded me to give him a fairy godmother. And I have chosen you.”

The Red Fairy gaped at her.

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. Here” she offered her a patterned wand with a feather pending from its handle. “Go, go now and meet your godson.”

Guyrapitã grinned, took the wand, turned to smile at Nova and Tinkerbell, who smiled in return, and left.

The castle was submersed on the silence of the evening when she arrived through the lively vegetation. The light that came from the windows was somehow subdued, as if the castle had just experienced a death and not a birth.

Guyrapitã approached the window of the highest tower. Inside, a tall, bearded man and a woman who looked tiny by his side watched a baby sleep on his crib. The fairy quivered her wings in excitement and entered the room. The woman took the baby in her arms and the man drew his sword menacingly.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m Guyrapitã Michí, his fairy godmother. Blue sent me.”

She drew out her wand and the couple seemed to recognize it, because the man put his sword on its sheath again. The red fairy approached the woman and smiled adoringly.

“He is beautiful… may I hold him?”

The woman nodded and the fairy took him in her arms. She gasped when the boy grasped her finger.

“Could… Could you do something for him? Something to protect him?”

Guyrapitã looked into the worried brown eyes of the mother and then answered:

“I can protect him from magic… make it impossible for any magic to touch him unless he accepts it willingly.”

“But then that means…”

“That I won’t be able to do any further magic on him until he cames to the age of reason, yes. That’s the price of this magic.”

The man and the woman exchanged worried looks.

“Do it.” The mother finally said “If there’s no other choice…”

A lump formed in the fairy’s throat. She raised her wand and started to say a blessing she had learned from the monks, from the times she was one of the fairies in charge of hearing the prophecies at a monastery:

“May you become kind, strong and faithful. May you love fiercely and be loved in return. May your feet be steady, to lead you for the way of good and your hands blessed to bring the bread to you and those who will depend on you. May your presence be a blessing wherever you go, and may the blessing go back to you if those around you aren’t worthy of it.”

The baby gazed lazily the wand in the fairy’s hand. She proceeded with the enchantment:

“May no magic touch you or affect you until the day you take it willingly.”

And that said, she moved her wand in the air. A soft, red cloud covered the baby and he fell asleep. The fairy put him back in his crib, but when she was about to ask:  _ what’s his name? _ she felt the presence of another magical being in the room. She turned to find a woman dressed on a black dress covered with feathers. The couple stood still, bind by a spell.

“You are the witch.”

“You can call me Fiona, but i’ll take that as a greeting. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

And without adding another word she threw the fairy against the wall with a spell, rendering her unconscious.

“Oh, such a wonderful boy, Isolde,” —She said mockingly to the woman— “He’d probably grow up to be an ungrateful brat just like his mother. Such a pity that he won’t be able to do so. But don’t fret, my dear, it will be quickly, he won’t feel it, almost. I suppose.”

Guyrapitã was slowly regaining her consciousness, just on time to see the witch prepare a spell.

“No!”

Too late. The swoosh of the magic rebounded around the baby and hit Isolde and her husband in the chest with such strength that it broke the freezing spell and they fell on the floor. The witch, surprised, fell backwards, almost dragging the crib with her. Guyrapitã got on her feet, but when she tried to move forwards, a spell froze her. The fairy struggled to break it desperately, but it seemed like her magic had left her. The witch recovered her balance and took the boy in her arms. His parents rolled on the floor in pain. Fiona got closer to them and said:

“You know what? My first plan wasn’t good enough, this is far better: that you will die knowing that I’ll make this bastard’s life as miserable as I can. Isn’t it a great idea, darlings? What do you say little bastard?” she smiled at the boy.

The man moved his hand, but it fell heavily on the floor.

“Joseph, don’t waste your precious energy, dear. You’ll die anyways.”

“The guards of the castle will be here any minute now.” Guyrapitã finally could say as she fought the spell.

“The stone guards, you might mean. That good old statue curse. They look so pretty I couldn’t but turn them all into statues. Am I not great? And now, please be silent.” She gestured with her hand and Guyrapitã felt her mouth being binded shut.

These are simple spells —she told herself as she struggled in vain to set herself free— she tried to focus on belief with all her strength, but nothing came out of it. Fiona laughed and then started singing a lullaby, as she looked Isolde and Joseph agonize. When they finally drew the last breath, she said:

“They don’t deserve to be buried, do they? What do you say? Oh, right, you can’t talk. Well, don’t worry, I’ll dispose the garbage.”

And with a gesture of her hand, the bodies disappeared.

“And now, little bastard, I know exactly where we should go next.”

With a cackle, she extinguished the lights and left the castle. 

Several hours passed until Guyrapitã could finally break the spells that binded her. Beyond the window, the full moon illuminated the woods, the once evergreen woods that now had turned into lifeless thorns. The Red fairy started to sob loudly as she recovered her wand, and leaving the room, wandered through the castle, feeling that every statue was an accusation of her weakness and ineptitude.


	10. The Spinner Baronet

**_35 years earlier_ **

Fiona walked through the streets of a village, looking for a particular hovel, the words of her father still ringing in her ears all those weeks after: _How could you do that to your sister?!_.

“If you had cared that much for your bastard daughter, you shouldn’t have made her my maid.” she muttered under her breath. She recalled the way Isolde had found her with Malcolm, and still worse, the moment Hermann came to the castle carrying the tiny maid in his arms and making puppy eyes to her. Fiona spat on the sidewalk and resumed her search, until she finally found what she had been looking for, and knocked at the door.

A man, who didn’t seem to be pleased of seeing her, showed up at the door.

“Fiona.”

“Malcolm…”

“Are you with child? I cannot have a child, Fiona… I… I am about to move to other town, find a work, try to clean my name…” he stuttered.

“Malcolm, please, no…”

“I’m actually going this minute, Fiona. I’m sorry,” he cut her, and untying the horse and getting on it, galloped away.

She ran behind him, shouting his name until he disappeared in the dark. She fell on the floor and sobbed, until a feminine voice said behind her:

“Don’t you cry, Fiona. I will help you set things straight and get back what is rightfully yours.”

“Who are you?” the woman asked as she turned to look at the owner of the voice.

“I am your fairy godmother,” the other answered extending her hand to help her up. “Come with me.”

Fiona took the fairy’s hand and both vanished in a cloud of smoke.

**_35 years later_ **

An odd sensation of things coming to a turning point took over everyone at sir Maurice’s castle as the day of the investiture at Snow White’s castle approached. Rumple worked against the clock to have his and Bae’s clothing ready, even if Aelainrest, his now official valet, did everything he could to help. Rumple had managed to do all things by himself his whole life, and therefore he didn’t want to have a help, but Belle’s insistence and the pro of not having to deal with the soldiers made him yield, and Aelainrest’s sympathetic and uncomplicated nature won him over in no time.

The only real problem the poor stable boy faced was trying to make Rumplestiltskin get on a horse, his limp being the main hindrance for the task. It was all solved though, when the spinner told him to convince sir Maurice to hire a carriage and a certain coachman that lived in the village. Aelainrest smiled and arched his eyebrows when he saw Dove grab the man by the waist and sit him effortlessly on the saddle, but he omitted to comment on the subject afterwards.

As promised, Belle taught him as much as she could about court manners, dancing and reading. He would never forget her smile and the sparkle in her eyes when he read his first sentence aloud, or the first time he made her spin, or her giggle when he bowed and offered her a blue wisteria he had picked from the creeper that surrounded his room’s window. He wouldn’t forget either the reassuring feel of his hand on her waist or the soft smell of her hair.

Belle, on her side, didn’t want those days to come to an end, as much as Maurice wanted them to be over. Gaston was far more preoccupied with the war his father was carrying against his other neighbour lord than with whatever his fiancèe and that weird healer did or didn’t do, as long as the alliance with sir Maurice remained steady. He didn’t need another front of battle to be open in case the baron’s health decided to give in.

Finally, the day of the departure came. Servants hurried in all directions to finish the last details. Aelainrest helped Rumple to shave and comb his hair, while Bae got dressed on the white breeches and brown doublet his father had sewn for him.

“This is madness,” the spinner said for the uptenth time since he woke up that morning, as he looked himself on the mirror, his reflection showing him on a sleeveless doublet and a short cape he had made out of the caribbean blue thread, paired with white breeches and shirt. Aelainrest said nothing as he turned around looking for loose threads he might have overlooked before. Bae entered the room.

“Papa, I made something for you,” he said as he offered his father a new staff, one embossed by his hand with a spiral pattern of roses.

Tears formed in the eyes of the spinner, and Aelainrest smiled softly. Rumple put aside his old staff and took the one his son was offering him.

“Thank you, son. It’s wonderful,” he said as he traced with his hand the beautiful pattern.

Father and son hugged and then Aelainrest took them out of the room towards the doors of the castle, where a group of carriages and several horsemen awaited. Dove held the reins of the last carriage, besides which sir Gaston, all dressed in white and trying to make his horse remain calm, talked with someone inside it. Aelainrest approached the carriage by the other side, where a servant was holding the reins of Belle’s horse, Philippe. He opened the door of the carriage and after asking for permission, helped Bae and Rumple in and closed the door behind them. Gaston made a comment about being helped like a lady, but nobody paid attention to him.

Rumple almost gaped when he saw Belle on a lincoln green dress, one made out of the thread he had made. He was so dumbfounded that he didn’t notice the way Belle’s gazed flickered over him from the boots Aelainrest had lent him to his now scented and combed mane. It took them a while to start a conversation, but once the carriage started to move forward, they fell into amicable chatter.

The party stopped several times to rest the horses and for the meals, and Aelainrest and Bae took the opportunity to take turns riding Philippe. A few hours after they stopped for dinner, Belle told Chovnia something in the ear, and the maid, after making Dove stop the carriage, came down of it and Aelainrest made Bae get into the carriage to have some rest. He fell asleep almost immediately, the noise of the carriage lulling him.

Belle paled as he looked to the full moon that shined high in the sky and said in a low voice.

“It’s coming again… I can feel it.”

He refrained the impulse to hold her, but as if she had read his mind, Belle asked him:

“Would… would you hold me?”

He opened his arms and she reclined on him, laying her head on his chest. Her breath was serene, but the dread of her illness was palpable. He carefully extended his cape and hers to wrap his arms around her. He looked through the window towards the woods at the side of the road, remembering the verses he had learned a long time ago, for his wedding:

_His left hand is under my head,_

_and his right hand doth embrace me._

_stir not up, nor awake my beloved,_

_till she please._

He wanted that moment to last forever, as much as he knew that it wouldn’t last, not even a day, and Belle fell asleep hearing the steady beat of his heart. Soon, the fever took her over, and Rumple tightened his embrace. She said something and he, surprised, asked:

“What?”

“I love you,” she repeated against his neck, and then started shaking again.

There was a silence and he answered, hiding his face on her hair:

“And I love you too.”

Her trembling receded. He could picture in his head her bright eyes open in the dark. Her right hand posed on the middle of his chest.

“And once I heal, and don’t have delirium anymore, Will you still love me?” she asked with quivering voice.

He wanted to tell her that if it depended on him, he would have already asked her to marry him; he longed to tell her how she thought of her as home; to tell her that deep down all that he wanted was to give himself totally to her, body and soul. But instead, or maybe as a summary, he only said:

“Yes. Yes, I will.”

He raised his eyes one more, and saw a part of the forest that was totally covered by dry thorns, a desolate field and a desolate castle under the light of the full moon. Belle’s temperature started to drop again, and her breath to accompass his.

_The sparrow hath found an house,_

_and the swallow a nest for herself…_

He recited under his breath. He tightened his arms around her, and then asked softly, almost in a whisper:

“And once you heal and don’t have delirium anymore, Will _you_ still love me?”

And the silence of the night surrounded them.

***

They arrived at Snow White’s castle at first hour of the day. The morning was rather cold and windy, but Rumple almost didn’t notice it as he looked the impressive front of the queen’s castle. Carriages were arriving from all directions, and soon the crowd guided them to the room of the throne.   The queen’s servants escorted everyone to their respective places, putting some order on the crowd of noblemen.

After much waiting, the queen and the prince consort entered the room, and the ceremony began. When the herald finally called his name, Rumple stood up, approached the throne and with effort, kneeled in front of Snow White. She smiled brightly at him and giving him the scroll with the letters of patent, said:

“May you serve this kingdom as steadily and faithfully as you had been until now, sir Rumplestiltskin.”

He bowed his head and when he was about to get up a strong but gentle hand held his arm and helped him up. His eyes met the face of prince David, who nodded slightly.

He returned to his spot between Belle and Bae and sitting down, fidgeted with the scroll as he watched the rest of the ceremony develop. In his anxiety, he didn’t notice that the fairy wearing a blue dress had her eyes fixed on him and her lips pursed into a straight line.

When the last title was given, the queen stood up and taking gracefully the arm of her husband, walked to the center of the room. The band started playing and the royal couple opened the dance. Little by little the guests joined them and soon the room was filled with couples dancing. Gaston hurried to ask Belle the first and second dance, and Bae and Rumple stood on the side, watching the crowd. When the first dance ended, the queen and the prince approached them, and the queen asked him to dance with her. His knees flailed a bit, but he caught Belle’s smile over the queen’s shoulder and reassured by it, took Snow White’s hand for the second dance. He was actually surprised by how well he did it, given the circumstances.

“You dance quite well, sir,” Snow White said, with her warm dark eyes glowing softly.

“Thank you, your majesty,” he managed to say as the last measures of the piece came to sound.

“Would you be so kind as to accompany me to where the baron of White Creek is standing? He is the one wearing an orange doublet.”

“Of course, your majesty,” He answered with a bow as he spotted the man on one of the sides of the room. Remembering Belle’s lessons, he offered his arm to the queen, who posed her hand on the hollow of his elbow. After leaving her beside the baron, Rumple studied the room, looking for Bae, who was nowhere to be seen. A masculine voice said behind him:

“Corriedale or Merino?”

He turned to find prince David smiling with his arms crossed.

“Merino,” he answered automatically.

“Of course,” —the prince added, striking amicably his arm— “Your reputation precedes you, and your skill is really as impressive as they say.”

He emphasized his words with the movement of his head.

“Thank you, your highness. Forgive the impropriety of the question, but, have you seen my son?”

“He is at the gardens, playing with princess Emma and the other children. May I have a word with you?”

“Of course, your highness.”

“Come with me, please.”

He guided him for a couple of corridors. After they passed a room in which King Midas and sir Maurice were sharing a drink, Rumplestiltskin asked:

“How did you know…your highness?”

“I’m sorry, how do I know about what?”

“About the sheep breeds, your highness.”

“When I was a child, my family had a farm. We bred sheep, though we didn’t spin or weave.”

A silence settled between them, and the prince added:

“I was overwhelmed, too, the first time I was in the court, and felt ridiculous in this kind of clothing, but Snow was worth it.”

He looked upwards and continued:

“I fell for her in the moment I saw her. It seemed like a foolish dream then, but look at us now.”

Rumple didn’t know what to answer and therefore, he said nothing. The prince turned to him and patted him on the shoulder. He then motioned him into the war council room, and walking to the table on the middle of the room, picked a scroll tied with a red ribbon.

“When we received lady Belle’s letter, we pondered a lot, not only about the request she made in your behalf, but also about the things that were left unsaid. Snow White and I decided that if we were to confer you a baronetcy, we should also provide you the means to keep it worthily. Therefore we have decided to appoint you as the spinner and weaver of this royal house.”

The spinner gaped at him. Prince David added:

“it isn’t much, but it will allow you to have a comfortable life, without preoccupations, and to make reality to a certain degree any project you and lady Belle might have in mind.”

“But…”

“I assure you that I know what we are doing. Take it, please.”

The prince pressed the scroll against his hand and he finally yielded and closed his hand around it.

“Let’s go back now, before our absence is noticed and Snow scolds me.”

They left the room hurriedly. King Midas and sir Maurice were still in the same room, now noticeably drunk. When they arrived to the room of the throne again, Belle appeared out of nowhere and tugged his hand.

“Where have you been, sir?” she teased. “What’s that?” she added, when she noticed the second scroll.

“The prince gave it to me. He and the queen decided to make me the official spinner of the royal house.”

“That’s great!” She beamed. “You won’t have to worry about your future once…”

She trailed off, her smile fading a little. After a couple seconds, she recomposed herself and added:

“Now, are you going to ask me to dance or you won’t allow me to test my best student’s progress?”

When he was about to answer, another masculine voice called his name, startling him.

“Sir Rumplestiltskin!”

It was rather weird for him to hear his name and _sir_ on the same sentence. Sir Gaston, with his hands intertwined behind his back, balanced his weight between his heels and the ball of his feet.

“Follow me, please,” he added once he was sure the spinner had noticed him. Rumplestiltskin bowed towards Belle.

“Excuse me, I’ll be back in a minute.”

She nodded and he followed sir Gaston to a balcony, the sense of foreboding he had the last days intensifying every second. The man stopped at the railing, his hands still intertwined on his back and said abruptly, without turning:

“I just received a letter from my father. He calls me to his side on the battlefield, and I must part as soon as my horse is ready. But first, I need you promise me something.”

He turned and looked to the floor without bending his head.

“Last night I saw what happened between you and the baroness on the carriage.”

Rumple blushed to the root of his hair.

“Sir, you know that she isn’t conscious of what she says when the fever takes her over.”

“I have also seen the way she looked at you when she was awake, and specially the way she considered you during the ceremony and the moment before I called you.”

“Sir, I don’t…”

“I’m not interested in anything you have to say, besides an ‘I give you my word’”

He moved his right hand forward and studying his nails, continued:

“I have the distinct feeling that this will be my last battle, and I want to have all my business in order before I face the enemy.”

He turned again to look at the gardens, where a multitude of children played under the sun.

“My mother, sir Rumplestiltskin, was a very fine woman, beautiful and kind. She didn’t live long, and deep down I know it was my father’s infidelity and belittling that killed her. I promised myself that if I were to marry, I’d make so that my wife could be proud of me, and that nothing lacked to her comfort. However, I have come to the conclusion today that it isn’t enough.”

He turned once more, and facing Rumplestiltskin, looked down on him:

“All this things taken into consideration, it seems that lady Belle is going to be soon freed from her engagement, and that someone else is to take care of her happiness and welfare. And it also seems that her preference has befallen on you.”

Rumple tried to protest, but the man cut him:

“I need you to promise me that you will make every effort to make her happy and comfortable, and that you will die for her if needed be. Otherwise, I’ll make sure, from whenever I happen to be, that you pay for it. Did I make myself clear, sir?”

The man was taken aback by the glare in the spinner’s eyes. Rumplestiltskin leaned forward and he backed.

“I give you my word, sir, but not because you asked it; because she deserves it.”

“That’s enough for me,” Gaston answered, swallowing and offering him his hand. Rumplestiltskin shook it. In that moment a servant entered the room.

“Sir Gaston, your horse is ready.”

The man stepped back and nodding to Rumplestiltskin, left the room behind the servant. The spinner returned to the room of the throne, feeling lightheaded and wondering what had come to him. Belle was still there waiting. She looked at him concerned.

“What happened? What did he told you?”

“Nothing, he just wanted me to take care of something while he is away.”

She eyed him but seemed to be satisfied with her inspection.

“Shall we dance now?”

He smiled softly and taking her right hand kissed it, and asked:

“Would you give me the honor of this dance?”

She curtsied with a coy smile and put her left hand on his shoulder. He secured his staff on his belt and hugged her waist with his right hand. They danced slowly, in silence. Rumple was happy, yet, the feeling of foreboding didn’t left him. The dance lead them to the balcony he and Gaston had occupied earlier. The song ended and he released her, but she held his hands. They looked to the garden, where Bae ran behind a fast and agile princess Emma. He turned to look at her and asked:

“Belle, Do you dream... during the fever?”

She looked down.

“Yes,” —she took air— “It’s always the same dreams. But there was something different in one of them last night.”

He could see her chest rise and fall faster under her corset.

“I always dream that I am falling on the void, and then a hand grabs mine… Then I climb a mountain, knowing that someone is on top, waiting for me, but then I fall again. But last night…”

He squeezed her hands and she looked up, holding his gaze.

“Last night I climbed to the top, and when a hand was extended to help me… It was you. And then we sat there, on the top of the mountain, and you looked at me and asked: ‘And once you heal’”

“and don’t have delirium anymore,” they said in unison.

“Will you still love me?” Rumple finished, with and anguished expression on his face.

“Yes, yes I will.” She answered with a watery smile.

Their faces approached and when Belle was about to pull him into a kiss, a cackle made them look to the balcony. In the air, a woman dressed in black, covered with feathers, held Bae mid air.

“Papa!”

“Bae!” Rumple shouted, running towards the railing.

“You should feed your boy better, darling, he is as light as a feather.”

“Don’t hurt him! Who are you? What do you want?”

The woman laughed and ignoring his questions, said:

“If you want to see your boy again, come and meet me. You know where.”

“Wait!”

A purple cloud engulfed Bae and the witch, and they disappeared.

“The black bird,” Belle said absentmindedly “she is the shiny cowbird.”

Rumple looked at her anxiously.

“I… I don’t understand”

“There was… There was a prophecy… It came out of nowhere when I was seeking a cure for the fevers… it said: ‘Look, and pay attention; open your ears and listen to my words: seven winters you will see, until the lily of Avonlea sprout from the crack of the tomb. Seven winters yet, and the sparrow will scape out of the claws of the shiny cowbird and set the lily free; and on the lifeless forest the thorns will bear roses.’

“The lifeless forest. The thorns. I saw that place last night. It was in our way here. That’s where she wants me to meet her.”

They looked at each other.

“I have to go now. I’ll take Dove with me. Please, send a dove to Sherwood forest, to Robin Hood and the merry men. Ask them to meet us on the road to the royal castle, please.”

She nodded and said:

“I love you, Rumple. Come back to me.”

“I will,” he answered, squeezing her hand and looking at her with sad eyes. “here, take this.” he added, plucking a string from his neck and showing her a ceramic medallion. “This belonged to one of my aunts. She gave it to me on her deathbed. It is the only thing I have of her.”

Belle took the pendant and kissing it, tied it around her neck.

“I’ll care it with my life.”

They separated as the nail is separated from the nail bed. Dove was waiting for Rumple with two horses already saddled, and Belle rushed to write the letter. As she released the dove, she saw them go away with a dark feeling of foreboding tightening her chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are close to the end... I want to thank everyone who has been reading and commenting and leaving kudos. You are awesome.
> 
> Yes, I couldn't resist using the nail metaphor from the Poem of the Cid.


	11. And the Thorns Bore Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I have read and reread and modified this chapter too many times. I'm sorry my skills are this limited. I wish I had written this whole story better, and hope I'll write better the next one.

The sun had long set by the time Dove and Rumple saw a group of lights  approaching them by a fork in the road.

“My dear friends!” Robin shouted when he distinguished their faces under the moonlight. “It seems like life has been treating you well, Rumplestiltskin!”  He added smiling as he got closer to the spinner, but the sorrowful face of his friend sobered him. “What happened?”

“A witch has taken Bae, and wants to meet me at the castle of the thorns woods”

“I know where the thorns woods you speak of are, but there’s no castle there.”

“But… I saw it yesterday… it is a few miles that way.”

Robin looked at Dove, who shrugged. He then turned again to Rumple and said:

“You guide us, my friend.”

The spinner passed in front of Robin’s companions, ten of the best between his men, and they followed him in silence. When they finally arrived to the woods, the men exchanged glances. What seemed like yards and yards of endless thorns stood in front of them under the moonlight, no castle in sight. Rumplestiltskin slided down from his horse’s saddle and made his way between the dead trees. The men followed him, prepared to draw their weapons at any given moment. Rumple finally reached the gates, and as soon as he put his foot on the first step, a gasp left the mouth of those behind him, who could now see the dilapidated building, hugged by hundreds and hundreds of dead, thorny creepers.

“I have heard of something like this, but thought it was just a legend,” —Little John whispered to Robin— “a spell that make things visible only to the ones who had seen them before the spell was cast.”

They advanced for corridors and stairs, finding statues of people of all ages and sizes on their way.

“Who could have made this kind of thing?” Arthur of Bland asked “They are flawless… they look like real people in every detail.”

“You’d better ask which kind of fool has his castle full of statues, his gardens full of thorns and vanishes without anybody noticing,” David of Doncaster replied shuddering.

They finally arrived to the doors of the tower’s top room, and preparing their weapons, they pushed them open.

***

Fiona had left Bae bind by a freezing spell on the top tower of the castle and disappeared to come back again once the sun had long set on the horizon. She surveyed the walls with her eyes and hands.

“To think that I was to be lady of this castle. It looks quite good like this, though.”

“Why did you take me here? What do you want from us?”

The woman smiled brightly.

“You are here just to see an old ballad come to life. Have you ever heard the Ballad of the Moon, darling?”

She decided that Bae’s confused face meant a no, because she continued:

“Oh, nevermind, I’ll sing it for you.”

She extended her arms towards the sky, and as if conjured by her spell, the clouds uncovered the moon, and its light crossed the hole in the roof and illuminated the room. Fiona started to sing in a sweet tone, the same way one sings a lullaby:

_The moon came to the forge_

_in her bustle of nards._

_The boy looks and looks at her,_

_The boy is watching her._

She looked at Bae, to check that he was paying attention, and continued to dance, as she produced a cauldron out of thin air.

_In the quivering air_

_the moon sways her arms,_

_showing, lewd and pure,_

_her breasts of hard tin._

She looked at the moon again, and with a movement of her hands, made appear an altar of stone behind the cauldron.

_Beating the drum of the plains_

_the horseman approached._

“You can see them coming, darling!” she interrupted the song as she passed in front of the windows that onlooked the castle’s entrance, by which the Merry Men and Rumple were crossing. She continued:

_Across the olive grove were coming,_

_bronze and reverie, the gypsies._

_Their heads held high,_

_their eyes narrowed._

“Robin Hood and his merry men! Who would have expected something like that!” She added mockingly, as something started to simmer on the cauldron.

_"Run, moon, moon, moon._

_I can hear their horses."_

Fiona made the impression of a child’s voice and continued to slowly dance around the cauldron, the feathers of her dress shining on the moonlight.

_"Child, let me dance._

_When the gypsies come,_

_they will find you on the anvil...”_

She caressed the stone of the altar with her hand and then moved to touch Bae’s chin:

_with your tiny eyes closed."_

She then stepped back.

“Can you hear them? They are crossing for doors and corridors and stairs!”

She continued her dance and produced a silver goblet.

_“How the night bird sings!_

_ai, how she sings on the tree!”_

She submerged the goblet in the cauldron.

_“In the forge the gypsies_

_weep and sob aloud.”_

She now raised it on the moonlight, the spooky steam coming down the rims of the cup, her feverish gaze fixed on it.

_“The air keeps on in vigil, vigils,_

_The air its vigil keeps.”_

And as she finished, Rumple and the merry men bursted into the room.

“Welcome, darlings! You are just on time for the best part of the play!”

“Surrender, oh witch!”

“Oh, what are you going to do? Kill me?”

Robin quickly drew an arrow from his quiver and shot it at Fiona. The Witch moved her hands over the cauldron and a cloud of steam came out of it, stopping the arrow mid air. When the air cleared up, Rumple and Bae could see Robin and his Merry Men transformed into statues, and the arrow, now with the heaviness of stone, falling on the floor.

“An arrow that never misses its target… unless it cannot move at all.” Fiona mused looking to the arrow that was lying on the stone floor.

“Let him go.”

“Are those the manners those sad spinsters taught you? How terribly uncivilized.” she mocked him. “I’m Fiona, and it is a pleasure to see you again, darling.”

Rumplestiltskin backed a bit and then asked her fretfully.

“What is it that you want? What did we do to you? Why did you abandon us?”

“What I want… is a deal. A rather simple one, one that even you can fulfill. You’ll see, Rumplestiltskin, I have known you since you were a few days old.”

She eyed him.

“Surprised? I am not your mother, darling, no matter what Malcom told you. You are as ugly as your mother was, and a bastard, just like her.”

She approached him to touch his chin. He was paralyzed.

“But you have your father’s eyes… and his chin.”

Her hand turned to point at a huge painting on the wall over the mantlepiece. Rumple’s eyes opened wide. A big, blonde man had his hands on the back of a chair where a frail woman of big brown eyes and angular features was sitting. The resemblance was unmistakable.

“What happened to them?”

“They died, darling. It’s something that happens when people overstep the boundaries of fortune and rank in which fate had set them. You can blame your father’s bad taste for that.”

“You killed them,” he snarled.

“How perceptive of you! Is that a snarl? Am I the one to make you not insufferably kind and timid? I feel honored.”

“You wanted a deal. What is it?”

“Oh, are you in a hurry, darling? Let me tell you, it seems that I have been waiting for this moment your whole life.”

She looked again the goblet in her hand and turned to place it on the stone altar.

“It was a brilliant plan, a perfect one. I’d punish you for your parent’s behavior, and at the same time make Malcolm pay for his abandonment. But you managed to get rid of him and get those weird spinsters to take care of you. I waited,” She walked lazily to the cauldron and looked into it. “until the right moment, and then I found the perfect wife just for you. It wasn’t difficult to saddle her with you, and even easier to set her against you. To marry a woman who wouldn’t let you touch her and that would belittle you every day? That would set things straight.”

She turned around and looked to the sky, feigning amazement.

“But you, you are incredible, my little bastard!. You did respect her wishes and you were so kind to her that she ended up caring for you! Do you remember that night she let you in her bed, as her husband, for the first time? You might have felt like a man then for the first time ever. Oh, maybe you became a man then, who knows.”

Rumplestiltskin lowered his eyes, his jaw clenched.

“oops, I shouldn’t have said that in front of your boy… my bad,” she said turning to look at Bae and smile.

“Stop” Bae shouted.

She cackled.

“She didn’t even want you to go to war! The only thing worse would have been if you had returned victorious from the battlefield. It was fun to play the seer’s role and see all your determination shatter.”

He shot up his eyes.

“Don’t you recognize me? How about now?”

She swirled around and took the appearance of the seer Rumple had seen on the battlefront all those years back. She recovered her usual appearance and added:

“Everything went right for a few years then. But you were, oh, so lucky, that she found a pirate willing to make her his woman and she left you. At least I still had the villagers. But I left you unattended for a couple of months and came back to find you a baronet, dancing at the queen’s palace and romancing a baroness. This thing can’t go on and on forever. And here is where my deal comes.”

“Spit it out.”

“Don’t you wonder why I didn’t just magically turned you into a frog? Doesn’t surprise you that a cloud of magic transforms everyone into statues except you?”

She took the goblet again in her hands.

“You are immune to magic, darling. That pesky godmother of yours enchanted you that way. The only way to do magic on you is for you to take it willingly.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Isn’t here a boy you claim is your son that you want to set free? isn’t there a certain lady, victim of a terrible fever curse, that you want to be cured?”

“So, if I take your curse in, then, you’ll set them free?”

“Papa, no!” Bae shouted.

“Silence!” Fiona exclaimed, silencing the boy with a gesture of her hand.

“I think that’s a fair deal,” she answered.

“You have yourself a deal, then.”

“Come darling, sit here,” she pointed to the altar.

He obeyed and took the goblet from her hands. He looked at Bae, whose eyes pleaded for him not to drink of the cup.

“I love you, son. This is for you. This is a chance for a happy ending, for you and Belle. Seize it. Tell her that I love her, and that I would have went back to her if I could.”

“How romantic!” Fiona mocked.

Rumple ignored her. He gazed into the goblet she had given him, seeing his face reflected on the dark liquid. He hated her. He hated her from the bottom of his heart. She had killed his parents, she had made him miserable all his life. She was now about to take away from him the things he loved most: his son and Belle. But at least, they would have a chance at happiness, just not with him.

He hated her. But he wouldn’t give her that, no: he wouldn’t waste his last thoughts on her. He glanced for the last time the picture of his parents, trying to sear in his memory their faces, the faces he so lately had come to know. He downed the contents of the goblet in one gulp and fell sideways on the stone. He thought of Bae and Belle, of Joseph and Isolde. He knew the witch was manipulating his body, changing the posture of his limbs. He didn’t care. He wouldn’t give her that. His eyes closed and his consciousness drifted away, three pairs of ambers and two aquamarines lovingly caressing him and fading into darkness.

_A dream I dreamt last night,_

_little dream of my soul;_

_I dreamt of my beloved,_

_that in my arms I had them._

“Selfless, brave and true” Fiona said sweetly as she put his hands one on the other on his chest. His body was slowly turning into stone, as the curse took over his blood. The witch brushed his hair from his face and finished with a caress: “Sweet dreams, my dear little bastard.”

When the curse finally set in, she turned to Bae and said:

“A walk on the forest won’t do you bad, darling.”

And with a flicker of her wrist a purple cloud engulfed him and dropped him on the Infinite Forest.

***

An hour or so passed until Belle made up her mind. She had been thinking about the prophecy. Cowbirds were treacherous creatures, known for taking advantage of other birds, specially the sparrows, to make them hatch their eggs and feed their offspring, killing the other bird’s in the process if needed be. She couldn’t just wait there for Rumplestiltskin to return. Her restlessness made her look for her father, and she found him and king Midas asleep. She shook her head and looked for Chovnia and Aelainrest, who were chatting animatedly at the castle’s kitchens and hadn’t heard a word about what had happened. They were worried when she told them the news and asked Aelainrest to prepare Philippe and Chovnia to bring her her cape. Both servants nodded and complied her orders. When they finally met at the gates, the boy asked:

“Are you really sure you want to do this, my lady? the sun will set in a few hours, and you are still not fully recovered.”

“I need to do this now, Ael. I want you to do one more thing: take Chovnia with you and go as quickly as possible to Sherwood forest. Find Marian and tell her we need her and the other merry men with us. It is very important. I don’t want you to be here when my father wakes up.”

Both servants nodded and Chovnia hugged her with tears in her eyes.

“Be careful, my lady.”

Belle squeezed her maid’s hand and answered:

“I promise. Take care of Ael.”

Chovnia put her arm around the boy’s waist, because she wasn’t tall enough to hold his shoulders, and both looked Belle gallop away before turning to the stables to fulfill her orders in silence.

Philippe trotted by the road for hours, as Belle scrutinized the sides in search of the thorns woods. The sun settled on the horizon, and the moon made its way on the sky. Belle felt the curse taking her over slowly. She struggled against it. She had to find those woods, to find Rumple, help him… and the wedding… and the baby… and the mountains… Philippe trailed away as the grip of its lady’s hand on the reins loosened, and the baroness didn’t notice when a cloud of smoke took her from the road.

***

Guyrapitã beamed as she saw the lily on the bell jar glow intensely with a gold hue.

“Is he confessing his love? Maybe she is going to kiss him today!”

She couldn’t resist to take a glass ball and look at her godson and Belle. She found them talking at the balcony, and her heart raced when she saw they were going to kiss.

“Do it, kiss her!” she whispered.

The fairy then saw Fiona appear, and her face fell down. When she was seeing Rumple and Belle separate, something startled her.

“Guyrapitã!” the voice of the Blue fairy reverberated behind her, and she almost let the ball fall on the floor.

“Blue! you are back! You startled me!”

“What did I told you about keeping things from me? Why didn’t you tell me that the lily was recomposing and glowing?”

The red fairy trembled.

“I… I thought you meant that I were to tell you if it withered more… If it recovered or glowed everything was alright, and I thought I shouldn’t disturb you if things were going according to plan.”

The Blue fairy looked at her disapprovingly for several seconds, until she finally said:

“I am very disappointed, red one. We’ll talk about this and your future later.”

And that said, the Blue fairy took the bell jar and left. Guyrapitã spent the following hours wondering if she should tell Blue that she had given the prophecy to Belle. She finally decided to do so: she couldn’t live with that secret, and nothing could worsen her situation.

The Red Fairy left her flower and made her way towards the fairies vault. Nova saw her downcast countenance and felt the need of helping her.

“Little bird, are you alright?”

“Yes, Thank you,” the other answered, but then, backed and added: “actually, no, I’m not. I am going to tell Blue something I should have told her before, and I am afraid of her reaction.”

“Do you want me to go with you?”

“I’d very much appreciate it.”

Nova took the other fairy’s arm and accompanied her to the fairies vault. She then sat on the steps of the entrance to wait for Guyrapita’s return. The latter entered to the vault of the fairies just in time to see Blue manipulating a crystal ball.

“What are you doing?!” she shouted, and Blue, startled, dropped the ball, which crashed on the floor.

“It’s... nothing.”

“You were sending her to the infinite forest.” the red fairy glared.

“I was just helping, placing her where the boy can find her.”

Guyrapitã shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“You didn’t want her to find him… You wanted her to die.”

“I don’t know what are you talking about. This is the plan we did from the start.”

The Red Fairy ignored her answer, her eyes wide open and fixed on the broken crystal ball.

“All this years… you have been helping her. That’s why you chose me, because you knew I was going to fail.”

“If it comforts you, I never thought you’d be able to produce a protection spell.”

“You never believed in me.” She shook her head. “Yet I have wings.”

The blue fairy smiled icily.

“Because you are an abortion of nature, that’s why. You weren’t born of belief in the middle of dire times. You were born of the lust of a fairy and a dwarf.” she spat.

“But... why, why are you doing this? You are the first between the fairies, how could you side with evil?”

“I’m not siding with evil,” blue snapped, “I am restoring justice, setting things straight, as they should be. Isolde was a bastard, just like her son and you. Fiona was the one destined to join together her family and that of evergreen castle. What happened was an injustice, a deviation from the natural course of things.”

“Fiona lost her rights in the moment she tried to kill her own blood.”

“I am her fairy godmother. I am the one who must make justice to her.”

Guyrapita gaped and scoffed.

“Where were you when she became a spoiled girl? Where when she started to mistreat her own blood? Where when she tried to get her sister killed because she discovered her? If someone other than her and her parents is to blame for her fate, it is you.”

“And what are you going to do about it?” her voice was inadvertently getting louder “Tell the other fairies? They won’t believe you. Go to your godson? By now he must be turned into stone. You couldn’t even break a binding spell the last time. You have no real power nor magic.” Blue retorted with a ring of triumph on her voice. She didn’t know that Nova was overhearing their conversation, and that she had called Tink to join her.

“I might not be a real fairy, but I am still a godmother.” Guyrapita replied as she turned into a column of fire and vanished.

The smile on the Blue fairy’s face fell when he saw the rest of the fairies standing on the threshold.

“Do you know, Reoul Ghorm, what happens when the fairies stop believing in the first of them?” Tinker Bell asked.

***

Guyrapita searched frantically for Bae and Belle in the middle of the infinite forest.

“Where are you?” she muttered under her breath as she pointed the wand to her heart, trying to track down the blood of her godson. The words of Blue reverberated in her ears. _you are an abortion of nature_ ... _You were born of the lust of a fairy and a dwarf._

“No, you are wrong. I was born of love, of the love between them. And love is of stronger nature than belief,” she said out loud, clenching her fists.

A little ball of light sparkled on the tip of her wand and moved forward. She smiled and followed it until she found Bae.

“Baelfire! Is it you? I’m so glad I have found you! We have no time to waste.”

The boy eyed her and asked:

“Who are you?”

“I am Guyrapita Michí, your father’s fairy godmother.”

“My father has always told me not to trust the fairies.”

The red fairy sighed.

“He was right, but now, you must trust me or you won’t ever be able to leave this forest. We must find Belle and go back to the castle.”

Bae raised an eyebrow.

“Why?” he finally asked with caution.

“She is cursed, another fairy cursed her, and your father is cursed too. If she kisses him, both curses will be broken.”

“Why are you showing up just now? Where have you been all this years? Why is my father cursed?”

“It was a blessing, I blessed him so that he couldn’t be touched by magic. Time and circumstances transformed it into a curse. I couldn’t touch him, and I was tricked into not interfering. Please, you must believe me,” she pleaded.

The red fairy started to sob, and seeing his tears, he decided to trust her.

“How do we find Belle?”

“We need something related to her or her blood to try a locator spell. Otherwise, we’ll have to wander until we find her.”

“The only thing I have belongs to my father. it is a ceramic pendant, one that belonged to one of his aunts. He gave it to me when we left Longbourn,” he said, showing it.

The eyes of the fairy lighted up.

“He gave her one of those today, I saw it!”

She tipped the medallion with her wand, and it gleamed.

“Now, hold it with your hand and follow it wherever it leads you.”

Bae did as he was told, and grabbing Guyrapita’s hand, guided her through the vegetation until they could hear a horse kicking the forest floor.

“Philippe!” Bae exclaimed, jumping forward.

Belle was sitting on the saddle, her arms hugging her horse’s neck and her whole body shivering. Guyrapita approached her and sang in a low voice an enchantment, until the baroness opened her eyes slightly.

“Where is he? I need to get to him. Bring me to him,” She rumbled.

The red fairy sighed.

“I’m going to try to transport us all. Please, get on the horse and hold her so she doesn’t fall off.”

Bae obeyed and the fairy, touching the horse’s neck and closing her eyes, transported them again to the road that lead to Snow White’s castle. She tipped with her wand Belle’s pendant, and they followed it in silence by the road and into the thorns woods. They stopped at the gates and she said:

“Fiona is still up there, I can feel her. You and I must distract her while she tries to kiss him. Let’s get her off the horse.”

They struggled with Belle’s almost unconscious body until they had her standing on her feet. Guyrapita tried another enchantment, and the baroness opened her eyes a little.

“Lady Belle, listen to me. This is very important. Pay attention.”

Belle frowned slightly.

“We need you to try to remain awake. We are going to enter the castle and distract the witch. You must go and kiss a statue of Rumplestiltskin so he can be freed. Do you understand?”

Belle nodded sleepily.

“Find him. Kiss him.”

“That’s right. you got it.”

Guyrapita and Bae carried her through the corridors and the stairs until they reached the door of the tower’s top room. Guyrapita magicked Bae into the room, as closely to the witch as she could sense, and Belle close to Rumple’s still figure.

“What are you doing here?” the witch said when she saw Bae. She started to put a binding spell on him, when the voice of the red fairy was heard:

 _“_ Don’t!”

Fiona turned and faced Guyrapitã, who looked like a bronze statue ablaze.

“I won’t let you lay a finger on my godson or anyone he loves ever again!”

A burst of red light came out from her hands and threw Fiona against the wall. The dark witch laughed and getting on her feet, greeted her:

“Well, well, well, see what we have here! The not fair nor fairy!” she cackled. “You both are a perfect match. Pathetic aberrations.”

Guyrapitã clenched her teeth.

“What are you waiting for? Or are you afraid your magic won’t be enough?”

Belle was quietly approaching Rumple’s still figure, fighting with all her strength the drowsiness that was taking her over.

“Oh, right, you are trying to buy time for her. Sorry dear.”

Fiona turned around and casted a spell towards Belle, but Guyrapitã, like a column of fire, materialized in front of her, spinning and spinning around to deflect the magic.

Belle was now crawling on the floor, two steps away from Rumple’s body, and she was about to faint. She gathered all the strength she had left and screamed to the top of her lungs to shake her mind into wakefulness.

Guyrapita felt that her magic was draining out at an alarming speed. She wouldn’t resist for much longer. _Of course, I’m not a fairy._ she told herself on a fit of rage, but a still voice in the depth of her conscience told her, _but you are a godmother_ . She couldn’t deflect the spell forever, but she could buy time by absorbing it. Belle was now clinging to Rumple’s shoulders. _Just… a minute… longer…_ Desperate, Fiona doubled her effort. Guyrapita felt her power breaking. Closing her eyes tightly, she opened her arms. Her wand broke and the blow hit her in the middle of her chest, sending her flying against the wall. Her body then fell with a thud on the cold stone floor. Fiona lost her balance and fell backwards.

“I love you”, Belle whispered on Rumple’s face, stroking his hair. She locked her lips to the ones of the statue. A wave of rainbowy light flew from them with the strength of a storm. The stone under Belle’s hands turned to flesh, and Rumplestiltskin gasped for breath. Belle felt her drowsiness leave her and her body healed. Fiona growled like a wounded animal and raised her arm, ready to blast them with a spell. The lovers embraced each other in fear, but the witch froze mid air. An arrow, _the arrow that never misses its target,_ had pierced her through, by the middle of her heart. The spell on Bae broke, and the boy ran towards his father and Belle, as the body of the witch fell on the floor, her head bouncing against the stone, her eyes wide open in shock.

Belle, Rumple and Bae hugged, half laughing, half crying. The sky started to lighten. Robin, the merry men and the rest of the inhabitants of the castle, were slowly awakening from the curse. Soon, all of them were gathered at the room’s threshold, still too afraid to cross it. Finally, an old lady approached Rumple cautiously. She took his hand and examined his face. She turned to look at the big portrait over the mantelpiece, and then again at him. She then bowed until her forehead touched his hand, and started sobbing.

“My lord…”

Everybody in the room bowed then. Rumple looked at them aghast, tightening the grip of his arm around Bae and his hand on Belle’s. He then turned to look at the portrait and his eyes were filled with tears. Muffled sobs could be heard around, as everybody followed his gaze. Belle then stroked his hair with her free hand and he responded to the invitation by resting his head on her chest and sobbing quietly.

The sun broke over the horizon, bathing the room with it’s golden rays. The thorns that covered the walls of the castle and creeped inside by the windows, started to blossom with thousands and thousands of roses.

“ _And the sparrow will escape from the claws of the shiny cowbird, and set the lily free. And on the lifeless forest the thorns will bear roses,”_ Belle muttered. The prophecy had been fulfilled.

Bae suddenly turned around.

“Guyrapita!”

He ran towards the fairy’s still form. The old lady approached them and after surveying her, she turned her upwards and took her hands.

“She will recover, my lord, in due time.”

Bae let out a breath of relief and looked through the window.

“Are those… Ael and Chovnia? and isn’t that Marian?”

Rumple stood up and still holding Belle’s hand, went with her to the window, just in time to see lady Belle’s servants and the remaining Merry Men made their way through the garden, now filled with roses of all the shades. The newcomers saw them on the window, and greeted them joyfully, running towards the tower.

Marian and Roland hugged Robin, who teased his wife telling her that, had she arrived half an hour earlier, she would have found her husband in statue form. Two servants took the red fairy’s still body and carried her to a more comfortable place, and two others threw, with great satisfaction, Fiona’s body through the window. Soon the room was filled with chatter, those who had been frozen for decades trying to get a grip of the time, and everybody rejoicing on the reunion. However, the voice of friar Tuck made itself be heard over the concert of voices:

“Now, now, where are the groom and the bride I am supposed to marry here?”

“Friar Tuck…” said Marian, “We didn’t talk about no wedding.”

“Is it a christening, then?”

“Neither.”

“Well, you better find a groom and a bride to marry or a child to be christened, because I am determined to eat from this table anyways. I’m hungry.”

Everybody roared with laughter, and Rumple and Belle looked at each other. She saw a question in his eyes and squeezing his hands, said:

“We can seize the opportunity, you know… I have spent the night far from my father and my maid. You can consider me a repudiated woman now.”

“Don’t say that,” he answered, cupping her cheek. “My brave lady Belle. The only thing I have to offer you in payment for all you have done for me is this impaired body and this broken soul, if you’ll have them, of course.”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

And throwing her arms around his neck, she grabbed his hair and kissed him so passionately that Marian wondered if she should cover Roland’s eyes. When they finally pulled back, gasping for breath, the room was filled with applause and hoorays. The old lady exclaimed:

“It seems that this castle will soon have a new lady”

And friar Tuck shaking his head added:

“The kiss is on the end, not before the start. Well, I think we can make our way around it, though…”

Belle turned to the old lady and asked:

“In two days time?”

“In two days time it can be done.”

“So be it.” Rumple intervened, a wide grin painted in his face, “On two days time, friar Tuck.”

“No problem. I’ll eat from this table today, and tomorrow and in two days time. You have been warned.”

Another roar of laughter filled the room and whomever who looked at the portrait over the mantlepiece could have sworn that the bearded man and the tiny lady smiled too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fiona sings some verses from the Romance de la Luna, Luna, Luna (Ballad of the Moon, Moon, Moon) by Federico García Lorca.
> 
> Next chapter will be the epilogue.


	12. Epilogue

“It seemed like a fool’s errand to prepare a wedding in two days in a castle that had been abandoned for thirty-five years, but everything went well in the end. On the first day, the old lady, who happened to be the housekeeper, directed the rest of the servants on the surveying and cleaning of the castle; the merry men divided themselves in three groups: one of them was in charge of hunting, the second of carrying water to the kitchens, and the third was to collect fruit, vegetables and mushrooms; Belle wrote a letter to Snow White asking for help, and Aelainrest parted full speed on a horse to deliver it, while Rumple and Bae took turns to look over Guyrapita and the children of the servants.

By the time of the sunset Aelainrest and the merry men were back, and after an early dinner, they covered the floor of the main room with hay and everyone, masters and servants, slept on the same room, to protect themselves against the cold and the night terrors. Belle had her first full night of sleep in months, snuggling into the side of her groom to be and whispering:

_ His left hand is under my head,  _

_ and his right hand doth embrace me. _

and hearing him answer:

_ stir not up, nor awake my beloved, _

_ till she please. _

The next day, the sound of trumpets awakened them, announcing the arrival of the queen and the prince consort, followed by a caravan of carts filled with gifts of clothing, furniture, food and drink.

After congratulating them and promising to be back for the wedding, Snow White and prince David left, leaving Belle to read the letter her father had written to her, in which he disowned her and refused to attend the wedding. Rumple held Belle as she tore apart the letter.

“I was never enough,” she said bitterly as they looked the pieces of parchment be carried away by the wind.

The second day was therefore spent refurnishing the castle, hanging curtains and working in the last details: Firepan and the castle’s cook, as well as Chovnia and the housekeeper quarreled loudly about everything, but managed to get things done and reconcile by the evening; Allan of Dale, Ellen and Aelainrest rehearsed some songs, to make up for the lack of a proper music band; Marian and Roland decorated the castle hall with as many roses as they could pick from the garden, and Robin and Little John grabbed friar Tuck and made him bath and wash his habit on a nearby creek. 

Tinker Bell and Nova appeared in the afternoon and healed Guyrapitã. Despite feeling herself weak and dizzy, the red fairy decided to stay for her godson’s wedding. The damage done to her wand was irreparable and therefore she wouldn’t be able to do any complicated spells in the future, but it didn’t sadden her: it was the price she had been willing to pay for her godson’s happiness.

The day of the wedding was sunny and rather warm for the time of the year, and full of the promises of a new time. Belle wore the same green dress she had picked for the ball at the royal castle, being it the only dress she had then. Guyrapitã offered to change its color, but she refused: she wanted to wear it on the shade the hands of her groom had dyed its thread. When the moment arrived, she came out of the nuptial room, her cheeks rosy and her smile wide, her hands carrying a bouquet of roses and the ceramic pendant adorning the neckline of her dress. Rumple was waiting for her on the intermediate landing of the stairs, looking at her in amazement. They came down the last flight of stairs arm in arm, leaning on one another. 

The dwellers of the castle and the merry men awaited them in the hall, where a mumbling friar Tuck looked for the rite of marriage in one of his prayer books and the royal couple stood on the side, wide smiles painted in their faces. The ceremony was short and sweet, and after the groom kissed the bride all the present made a circle and danced around them.

The news of the wedding spread wide and fast, and soon the new lord and lady of Blossom Castle were receiving loads of letter from the most unexpected senders. Brother Bonaventure sent his congratulations and those of his community, telling in passing that some bags of potatoes would be very welcome at the monastery, but that friar Tuck would not.

After a few months sir Maurice relented and went to visit them, but he was as cold and distant as ever, and his annual visits were uncomfortable for everyone, but he never stopped visiting.

After some time, a little boy came to the world to make Belle a mother and Bae a big brother: Gideon.”

At this point, the girl to which Guyrapitã was telling the story, rolled her eyes.

“Josephine!” The fairy scolded. “By the time little Josephine was born, a letter of congratulations on their marriage and the birth of their two children, accompanied with apologies for the delay, arrived, penned by the Earl of Nottingham, formerly known as… sir Gaston LeGume.

As the future isn’t always as it seems, the knight’s presage of his own death came in the form of his death as lord LeGume’s son. When in the battlefield, an attempt to save the life of a young hussar ended in him wounded and and a prisoner of war. His father refused to pay ransom for him, arguing that a man of his rank and honor would have committed suicide rather than letting himself being captured. 

The Earl of Nottingham, lord LeGume’s enemy, decided to hang him, but was confused when all the response he got from sir Gaston was a founded argumentation about when and where and which was the best way to execute him. A couple of weeks later he successfully lead a counter mutiny on the Earl’s prison, and the earl, now very impressed by the strange man, gave him an amnesty and made him one of his officials. The Earl’s daughter fancied him, they got married and the sudden death of her father made him the new Earl of Nottingham. One of his first acts of government was to judge and sentence the sheriff to death for his crimes against the late earl and his subjects. It was while writing an indult for Robin and his Merry Men that the news about the family of Blossom Castle reached him, and he hurried to write his congratulations.”

“And a few years later another baby came to the world, and Rumplestiltskin and Belle called her Isolde. Isolde is a very boring baby. The End,” the girl of the brown curls interrupted, and Guyrapitã made the image of Rumple and Belle reading the Earl’s letter vanish from the surface of the ball she was using to tell her story.

“Isolde isn’t boring! It’s just that she is very little still, but she’ll grow up faster than you think.”

“If you say…” the girl answered not fully convinced. She then picked the ball from the fairy’s hand, and turning towards her oldest brother, demanded:

“Up, Bae, up!”

The young man gave raised his eyebrows and the girl added on a lower tone:

“Please.”

“And…”

“My sister is gonna be as intelligent and beautiful as I am.”

“Now that’s my Jo!” he beamed, and picking his sister by the armpits, raised her until she could reach one of the highest branches of the christmas tree that stood in the corner, and put the ornament in it. Then, she motioned him to leave her on her feet, and he shook his head as the girl went running to her father, that was on the opposite side of the room, and climbed his lap.

“Papa, Can I spin? Please!”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled and positioning his head over his daughter’s shoulder guided her hands on the wheel. He didn’t have to spin for a living anymore, but spinning still gave him comfort. 

On an armchair close to him, Belle nursed a baby girl while Gideon, sitting on a stool by her side, exerted himself reading aloud for her.

“I’m going to miss them so much,” Bae told Guyrapitã as they looked the scene.

“But you’ll soon have a family of your own with princess Emma,” she answered smiling. “Now, go, go with them.”

Bae complied and the fairy, shrinking to the size of a bird, said her goodbyes.

“Happy birthday, godson,” she said as she passed in front of Rumplestiltskin, and producing a burst of sparkles that made everyone giggle, disappeared through the window.

Chovnia entered the room with a pan full of chestnuts in her hands, followed by Aelainrest and his lute. The boy sat on the floor opposite to Gideon and started to play a soft christmas carol of his land. Chovnia put the pan over the fire and joined him, singing off key the old tune, her eyes shining dreamily.

The fire crackled on the hearth, and the hazelnuts roasted in it. The wheel spinned and the thread cumulated on a basket on the floor. Three curly haired heads hummed the melody, and a fourth one smiled and moved her chubby arms. Rumple and Belle looked at each other and smiled, as the song came to its last stanza:

_ Your beauty, your candor _

_ Steals my soul, steals my soul, _

_ Steals my love. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Chovnia and Ael sing is Niño Lindo (Beautiful Child) a traditional Christmas Carol from Venezuela.
> 
> I want to thank each and everyone who had followed this story, specially those who had left kudos and comments. You have brightened many bleak days. I want to thank you for your patience and kindness. I also want to apologize for my mistakes, specially for the weird pacing the story ended with, the irregular updating and my very basic English. I'll keep trying my best to improve my writing.
> 
> Thank you again!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is vaguely inspired in La Meningitis y Su Sombra (Meningitis and its Shadow) by Horacio Quiroga.
> 
> Constructive criticism? Prompts? Suggestions? Questions? Just want to say you enjoyed/didn't like something? Leave a comment!


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